


This Is Love

by chimaeracabra



Category: Actors - Fandom, James McAvoy - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Jealousy, Love, RPF, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-14 03:20:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 32,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9157921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chimaeracabra/pseuds/chimaeracabra
Summary: Aimee is a romance writer who has given up on finding the real deal. Her best friend decides to set her up with her cousin, who happens to be actor James McAvoy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ARogueGambit7](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ARogueGambit7/gifts).



> Inspirational music: Passenger (ft. Maynard Keenan) by Deftones. I would like to give a shout out to my friend Aubrey, who I am also using as a character here. James McAvoy isn't really her cousin, but she also loves X-Men and I think it'd be funny if she was actually his cousin. And, the bit about James reminding me of my ex for the reason he reminds my OFC of her ex is actually a piece of real life that I threw in. Idk, lately I've been reminded of the movie Trance, which I saw a while back, and it reminded me that James is pretty interesting to me. Having seen a YouTube ad about Split, I then rented Trance on Amazon and watched it on Christmas Eve, then I couldn't stop thinking about him. So here is the result of that…

              Something about him had always made her wonder why her friends thought they'd be compatible. It was always, _Ooo, I can't wait for you to meet James_ this, and _You’d look so cute together_ that, or _he's single, you’re single, so mingle_ , and other annoying things Aimee was tired of hearing.

            "Divorced men are—"

            "Something to cross off your bucket list," Renee interrupts, grabbing Aimee's hands so she would stop fidgeting in the Versace dress she'd spent months saving up for. Danielle's facial expression is enough to let Aimee know she already sees James coming.

            "I don't like this," Aimee says through gritted teeth.

            "You don't even _know him yet_ ," Aubrey states, crossing her arms and looking beyond irritated that Aimee isn't the least bit excited. Aimee sighs, slouching.

            "Come on. He reminds me of my _fucking_ ex because I saw X-Men: Apocalypse with him over the summer."

            "That is a _horrible_ reason to pass up on meeting him," Aubrey explains, cocking an eyebrow.

            "Look, he's my cousin, _not_ your Turkish ex-boyfriend. You _haven't even met him yet_ , so for the love of fuck, just give it a chance. God forbid you actually start to _enjoy_ dating again." After rolling her eyes, and watching Danielle waving at someone close by, Aimee realizes that it's far too late to back out of this setup.

            "But he has a kid—I don't _do_ kids—" Aimee adds, lowering her voice, stealing a glance behind her to see how far away James is. Aubrey sucker punches Aimee in the chest, and Aimee turns away from the approaching man to allow her face to recover from the mildly intense pain. Shivering in the chill of January, Aimee is finally faced with the face she's only seen on the big screen. After hugging Aubrey, Renee, and Danielle, Aubrey tugs on his arm and practically pushes him into Aimee.

            To Aimee's utter surprise, James is as attractive on screen as in person. He smiles, placing a hand on her shoulder, and its warmth seeping through the sheer fabric of her dress is hard to ignore.

            "Aimee," he says, with an air of familiarity, as if he has known her all her life. Her heart skips a beat as she begins to wonder how much Aubrey has told him about her. His other hand is sitting at the small of her back before she can greet him. He hugs her, and she stares over his shoulder at Aubrey, Renee, and Danielle, who are collectively grinning from ear to ear.

            "I'm Aimee," she says with about as much emotion as a boiled egg.

James's laugh is, to Aimee's surprise, _cute_ , "I know," he says. Still, she doesn't smile, at least not too much. She doesn't want him to think she's interested.

            "Welcome to the premiere," he says gallantly.

            "I've never been to a movie premiere before," Aimee explains, and  finds herself smiling. In the back of her mind, she chastises herself for doing so. James is looking directly into her eyes, and it almost feels familiar. Normally, she'd be skittish with eye contact, especially when it came to meeting people for the first time. It takes her a moment to release that James's hand is still on her lower back. It's as if it had almost melted into her and become a part of her figure.

            "Family's gotten tired of it for the most part. But my cousin here just can't seem to get enough."

            "Well, you're part of the reason my acting career has finally made it off the ground, so I'm still taking all the notes I can get," Aubrey explains, grinning. James laughs as Aubrey leans in to give him a fat kiss on the cheek. Something about the moment feels, dare Aimee think it, _good_.

            Renee, Danielle, and Aubrey end up sitting in such a way that Aimee is forced to sit beside James so that he's on the very last seat. She's sandwiched between him and his agent, and finds herself extraordinarily uncomfortable. She's forced to speak with James when his agent isn't addressing him. Aimee makes a point to discuss her dearest friend Aubrey, something both she and James can relate to.

            "It's amazing how far she's come. Moving to New York was such a huge step, one that I don't think I could have been brave enough to take at that age," Aimee explains.

            "She's a trooper, my cousin. If she really wants something, she'll go for it. Honestly, I think she'd have kept on just fine without me as a networking piece. She still dances regularly, booking shows—"

            "Left and right," Aimee says, realizing that she's saying it at exactly the same time as James. He smiles and laughs at this, sitting up a bit taller in his seat.

            "You've _really_ never been to a premiere before?" James asks. He seems not to believe that Aimee hasn’t.

            "No, first time."

            "It's just, Aubrey is always ranting and raving about you. As a writer, I would think you'd have been to a premiere or two by now."

Aimee tries her best not to blush, "I've been invited before, it just never fit into my schedule." She was practically forced out of the house for the sake of meeting James. The truth was, Aimee had never cared much for celebrity and all of the snootiness that came with some of the folks in the business. The few rich actors that she had met were the type of snooty she couldn't stomach to be with for more than a half hour at a time.

            "It's really a great networking experience, to be honest," James explains, "You could really expand your horiz—"

            He finds himself rudely interrupted by the feedback of a microphone, and Aimee watches James's face twist up into displeasure momentarily. Someone taps on the microphone, and introduces M. Night Shyamalan. Aimee focuses on the presenters and is surprised when she feels a pressure on her forearm, followed by James's voice low in her ear.

            "Expand your horizons," he says quietly, "You should think about coming out to more of these," he finishes. Every hair on the back of Aimee's neck stands up, and for a moment, she wonders whether James is trying to sound seductive, or whether that is his natural quiet voice. She faces him once more and nods with a grin.

            "Anyway," he whispers, gesturing towards the screen where a curtain has just been raised. Aimee had seen a few M. Night Shyamalan films before, and as the story unfolds on screen, she finds herself more and more afraid of James, who is sitting beside her watching, just about expressionless. She had seen the preview for Split and knew that it was going to be scary, but it didn't help that James was sitting right beside her. During a scene where she felt particularly petrified, she turned to find James looking at her rather intently, an interesting expression on his face. He'd clearly known what scene was coming, and it was as if he wanted to see Aimee's exact reaction during that exact moment. She had quickly laughed a little bit and glued her eyes back to the screen, but she could feel James's eyes studying her.

            As soon as the credits hit, Aimee claps along with the audience, and leans close enough to James's ear that he can hear her over the crowd. She tells him how great he was, how honored she was to be able to see the film for the first time in his company, not really giving him a real excuse before excusing herself and hurrying out of the cinema. Not even Aubrey had time to rope her back in. She glances back just once where she'd left James, finding him watching her walk away. He looks somewhat disappointed, like he didn't get to say whatever it was on his mind that Aimee had dodged when she excused herself.

            Maybe he was going to ask for her number. She couldn't handle that. Not because he had scared her in the film, but because the more she sat there and thought about him, the more she thought about all the things that could have gone wrong and she wouldn't have wanted her relationship with Aubrey to be forever-awkward if something bad were to happen with James. She couldn't risk losing a friend over something like that. _Stop over-thinking everything! Aubrey wouldn't have tried to set you up if she thought it was a bad idea…you've been a rude bitch._

            Hailing a cab and sitting there alone in the back seat, Aimee realizes what a fucking coward she is.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have work at 7AM T____T

         "I don't know. She just up and took off," James explains, waving a hand nonchalantly, smiling, and trying to hide the fact that he's genuinely disappointed. He had been trying to get to know Aimee from the moment she sat there beside him. Aubrey sighs, crossing her arms. Danielle and Renee find themselves at a loss for words.

            "Maybe—maybe she had a deadline to meet. She didn't say where she was going," he adds, coming to Aimee's defense. Aubrey cocks a brow.

            "You didn't even mention her script, did you?" she asks, making James feel guilty.

            "James?! Did you even _read_ what I sent you?"

            "Of course I did!" he explains, growing a bit defensive. His cheeks redden nervously.

            "I don't know how I would have approached that. What did you want me to say? 'Oh, I just _loved_ that detailed sex scene. You should make it longer!' I think she was _terrified_ of me after watching the film," he explains, "She practically ran away."

            "I can't believe her. How rude?"

            "Look, Aub, it's _fine_. Don't try to force her out to meet guys. If anything, I think maybe she just isn't a people person. Her writing is phenomenal, and she said she has actually been invited to premieres before, but that they didn't fit into her schedule. She doesn't seem to like being the center of attention. Some people do—"

            "James, you don't know how _perfect_ you are for each other. Truly, you have no idea."

He sighs, "Aubrey—"

She grabs James's phone from the pocket of his jacket.

            "What're you doing?" he asks. Aubrey only busies herself texting.

            "You know, you should really lock your phone…" Aubrey says absently.

            "Why…? …What are you doing?" James asks again a little nervously. Aubrey smiles, ignoring his questions.

            " _There_. You've just asked Aimee out on a date, and you're picking her up for lunch tomorrow at noon. Aimee doesn't ignore text messages. She's trapped now. _You're_ trapped now. Just don't let her be the one that got away. Alright?"

James sighs, "Alright." He had been curious about Aimee from the moment his cousin and friends started going on and on about her. Deep down, he was glad Aubrey was being so persistent. His cousin grips his forearm, placing the phone back into his pocket.

            "I don't like you being alone all the time. You've got to put yourself back out there, especially for Elliot's sake. He's probably having a hard time with the divorce, too. He's a kid. But you can't keep on like this forever, and you know it." James nods.

            "After all we'd been through, I just felt so _stupid_ to give up on my marriage—"

            "We've discussed this before," Aubrey interrupts, "That was you then. This is you now."

 

            As soon as Aimee makes it through the door of her home, she finds a text from an unknown number. Her heart just about drops when she reads it. She hadn't given James her number, but knows that her violently persistent friends must have been the impetus. James said he wanted to take her out for lunch. She stands in the doorway for a moment, until the cold reminds her she hasn't closed the door. She leans against the door, staring at the text. She found it difficult to ignore a text—always feeling an impulse to respond. She writes up a response and deletes it more than once.

            A lot of factors stop her from wanting to say yes; the fear of ending up in a relationship that, with her luck, would turn sour, and having that tarnish her friendship with Aubrey, the fear of dating a recently divorced man, and wondering whether he was still hung up on his wife, not to mention the fear of children. Aimee never wanted to be a parent, and James had a five-year-old son. She feels that it would be so awkward to date a guy with a kid. She'd never done it before. But she finally figures that James wouldn't have messaged her at all if he thought that his being a father was an issue.

            She texts him back, giving him her address. Almost immediately, James responds with a good night, and with the feeling that things are already progressing too quickly, she heads up the stairs for a hot bath and the comfort of her solitary queen-size bed.

 

            She had barely been able to sleep, and going through all of her clothes, Aimee ends up with five different outfits sitting on her bed. She texts Aubrey, asking what colours James likes, feeling sheepish when Aubrey responds with a winking face. She asks herself why she wants to even bother to please him. Part of her figures she's better off in sweats and a t-shirt, and no makeup. That would have shown her what James's intentions really were. She just didn't want to get hurt. Deciding on a coral blouse and black skinny jeans, Aimee plops back down in bed at ten in the morning. She decides she'll just lie here a little while, before showering and getting ready.

            The sound of her phone ringing wakes her up with a suddenness that causes her to gasp. When she sees that it's James calling and it's ten minutes after twelve PM, she jumps up, nearly tripping in her bathrobe.

            "Hello?" she says.

            "Aimee," James says, and his voice sounds like bells in her ear, "uh, I'm outside. I rung the bell. Are you not home?"

            "Holy sh—I mean, I'm _so_ sorry, I fell asleep. I was up and then I laid down for a minute—Christ, I'm sorry—"

            "It's alright," James says, laughing in a way that comforts Aimee. She closes her robe and hurries down the stairs. She can hear James talking on the front porch. She pulls the door open and he turns around to find her there. He looks somewhat surprised to see her. She laughs nervously and hangs up the phone.

            "I'm _really_ sorry. I fell asleep. I was already up and—"

            "Aimee."

            "What?"

            " _Relax_ ," he says, looking rather relaxed himself.

            "Okay," she says unsurely, suddenly wanting to hide her face. He's looking right at her. The wind blows coldly across her bare legs.

            "This is _so_ embarrassing. I can't believe I did that. Please, come in. Let me get ready—I promise I'll be quick," she states.

            "Really, take your time. We've got all day," James explains, thanking her and stepping into the house. Aimee shows shim to the day room.

            "Anyway," James begins, after telling her how nice her place is, "I wasn't sure where you wanted me to take you. I figured we'd have a moment to figure that out."

            He hugs her like she's not standing there in a bathrobe and pajamas. Aimee's heart skips a beat. She missed the security of that feeling, to be wrapped in a pair of strong arms. She hugs him back after a few seconds pass and she's just standing there like a starfish. He smells good, and she almost forgets to let go, until James releases her.

            "I can wait," he says, grinning.

            "Great! You're great! Thank you." She starts for the stairs, "Wait, can I interest you in some tea or something?"

            "I've had my coffee already. I'm fine, thank you."

He looks casual in jeans, a button-down shirt, and blazer. She's glad she decided on something simple. Aimee can't really believe that James McAvoy is sitting downstairs on her couch, waiting to take her out to lunch. She showers and does her makeup, throwing her clothes on in just under twenty-five minutes, record-breaking time for herself.

            She grabs her purse and coat, hurrying down the stairs. When she turns the corner into the day room where she had left James, she finds him already standing there, facing her. She wonders whether he ever even sat down. Truth be told, he hadn’t. He had been pacing back and forth, wondering where he should take Aimee to eat, wondering what it was going to be like to date as a divorced father. He was nervous that Aimee wouldn't be able to handle that. Would she be able to handle knowing that it meant his ex-wife would still be in his life? He had a child with another woman, there was no way his ex-wife would remain completely out of the picture. He was worried maybe Aimee didn't even find him attractive, and maybe that's why she took off right after the showing the night before.

            Maybe his character in the film frightened her _so_ much that she was turned off by him entirely. He had to try and pull it together. He didn't think his favourite cousin would set him up for disaster. He trusted Aubrey enough to know she wouldn't have just tried to throw him with any woman. James finds his breath taken away upon seeing Aimee walk into the room. He pulls his clammy hands out of the pockets of his blazer, where they had been sweating with worry.

            "Wow. You look amazing," James states genuinely. There's a softness to his voice that sends butterflies through Aimee's whole being, and she just laughs nervously.

            "I mean—I meant to tell you that last night, but I didn't want to look like I was coming on too hard," James explains. There's a sudden blush about his pale cheeks and his smile is sheepish a moment before he meets her eyes. In that moment, both James and Aimee realize that they are both nervous.

            "Thank you. You look nice, yourself." It's almost as if he doesn't hear her say this, and his thank you is not bloated the way she'd feared it might be, the way that she'd seen it be in other actors who had let fame go to their heads.

            "I was thinking of this really nice French place I've been to a couple of times. But if you have something else in mind…"

            "That sounds fine," Aimee interrupts, not really sure she even liked French food.

            "Off we go, then," he grins, and gestures that she exit first. Aimee closes and locks the door after James.

            "Your house is beautiful," he says, eying it up and walking backwards towards his car.

            "Yeah, well, that was part of my purchase decision."

James laughs. Truth was, she was tired of living in the four-bedroom two-bath place alone. It was frequently nice to have her privacy and space— _plenty_ of it—but she would have been lying to herself if she didn't feel that it could get lonely. James is a perfect gentleman, opening the passenger's side door and closing it once Aimee sits herself comfortably inside.

            "Again, I'm _so_ sorry about that. I always set my alarms and—"

            "It's perfectly fine, Aimee," James reassures, starting the engine. She can tell he really didn't mind; he seems to be the patient type, something she'd never known a guy to be. She glances in the back of the car, pausing and staring at the booster seat there.

            "Oh, that's, uhm…" James starts, trailing off as he stares out the mirror, making sure it's safe to pull out into the street.

            "That'll be Elliot's car seat," James explains.

            "Your son," Aimee states.

            "Yes. He's not quite big enough to use the adult seat just yet." James's smile is sweet, and looking at him, she can tell that he's thinking about his son. Gradually, the smile fades, and as he pauses at a red light, he faces her.

            "Just right off the bat, that's not going to be an issue for you, Aimee, is it?" Her heart skips a dozen beats.

            "We both know we were intentionally set up here, but I want you to know that I can't stop being a dad just because I'm dating again. If you think it's going to be too much for you, I would _completely_ understand it. And if you just want me to turn round and take you back home where it's safe…"

Aimee laughs. Part of her _does_ want James to just drive her back home and never speak of this again. But she had been trying to deny it until that moment that something about him was beckoning her. Aimee shakes her head, and James, who she realizes was actually holding his breath, exhales a sigh of relief.

            "It's not like I didn't know you had a son. Aubrey has shown me plenty pictures of him."

            "And I just want you to know that—"

 _Honk_! The car behind them grows impatient. James had neglected the green light. The car drives around them and James merely glares after it before continuing on his way.

            "Sorry—that I'm serious about dating. We don't have to talk about my ex-wife or my son at all if it makes you uncomfortable." His voice is calm and collected, and Aimee wouldn't have known that he was nervous as fuck deep down and scared shitless that he'd already lost her interest. _Women don't normally fall asleep if they're excited that you're taking them out to lunch_.

            "If anything, James, I'm glad you weren't afraid to just bring it up first thing and get it out of the way. I'm perfectly comfortable dating you. I think it's safe to say I've had worse." And really, Aimee _is_ uncomfortable for a myriad of reasons, but she figures this is worth seeing out for the time being.

            "Great…Aimee, that's _great_ ," James explains, keeping his eyes on the road.

            "Aimee," he says again, absently. He liked her name, and hearing him say it made her smile. She couldn't hide that fact any longer.

            "Yes?" she asks after a long silence. James steals a glance at her.

            "Sorry?"

            "You said my name, I was waiting for you to say something else," she grins.

            "Were you? I was just saying it for the sake of saying it. It's a beautiful name. Not everyone spells it like that."

She turns to look out the window and dial her smile down a notch.

            "It's French," he says.

            "I know. I'm not actually French, my dad just liked that spelling better," Aimee admits. He laughs.

            "Then your parents have great taste."

 

            Aimee wonders whether James knows that oysters are an aphrodisiac, and he eats them anyway, and his eye contact never wavers, and he seems to get a little bit closer to her, despite being on the opposite side of the table. His arms are practically resting there, and he touches her hand from time to time, and when he reads a paragraph from her script straight from memory, but in a way that sounds as natural as if he had made up the words himself, she starts to get wrapped around his finger slightly. Aimee blushes madly.

            "How did you—"

            "Aubrey," he says, stifling a smile. Aimee had no idea that he would have even given her script the time of day. She makes a mental not to never allow Aubrey to "check her email" on her laptop ever again.

            "So, you're a big romance writer," he says knowingly. Aimee stares nervously at the table, nodding. Her smile becomes a straight line in the mouth.

            "He didn't treat you right, did he?" James asks quietly, but not so quietly that Aimee can't hear him. His pale hand reaches across the table again and this time he cups her wrists. James's hands are warm and inviting. Aimee continues to try and feign a smile, but she can't. She sighs, and looks across the table to find James looking at her sadly. She shakes her head for no. She realizes how much James already knows about her. She puts pieces of herself in her writing. He seemed to be able to read her already. She had nothing left to hide.

            "I won't do it again," he says. Aimee stares at his hand wrapped around her wrist. There's a pressure there, he's weighing her down, as if to make sure she realizes his presence.

            "I'm not that kind of guy," he says, shaking his head. Aimee finds herself fighting back tears, continuing to stare at James's hand. She doesn't want to believe him, and at the same time, she _does_.

            "If I was, I wouldn't have waited for you to get dressed. I wouldn't have brought you here," James adds. When the tears have been successfully held back, Aimee meets James's eyes again. He had never looked away from her.

            "It's okay," she breathes.

            "It's not. If everything you wrote about him is true, it's _definitely_ not okay."

            "Goddamn it, I'm glad you agree," Aimee states with a small smile. James relaxes, releasing her wrist when she reaches for her wine. She finishes off her glass, and James pours her another.

            "I'll drink to that," he says. Aimee clinks her glass to James's.

 

            She knows that the coffee shop is just an excuse to keep her out longer. James doesn't want to take her home, because that means their date will be over. Walking in the cold of a park, Aimee is glad she decided not to wear a dress or skirt; the cold bites her nose ruthlessly. They pause near a pond, where there's just an icy sheet covering the surface of the water. For a moment, Aimee forgets that she's not alone, until something sits at the small of her back.

            "You can see the moon," James states, and she looks up at the clouds to find that this is in fact the case. His hand travels around to rest on her hip and he points up at the moon in the daytime sky. He seems completely comfortable getting close to her. Normally, Aimee wouldn't have allowed anyone this close so soon. For some reason, James isn't bothering her by doing this.

            "Someone once told me it's a bad omen," James explains, "If you believe in all that horse shit," he laughs.

            "Hmm, well, let's hope they were wrong," Aimee states. James pulls her closer.

            "Are you not freezing?" he asks. This gesture makes her anxious for a moment. He's practically an inch away from her face now.

            "Of course I'm freezing. It's winter and we're in Europe."

James laughs. He unwraps the scarf from his neck and begins to wrap it around Aimee's.

            "You really don't have to—"

            "I do," he says, his baby blue gaze flitting back and forth as he watches his hands secure her in the fabric. His poor nose is red with all the blood constricted beneath the surface. Aimee fights the urge not to laugh at how cute he looks. The scarf is already warm from James's heat, and it's almost as if his fingers are wrapped around her neck.

            "Looks better on you, I think," he says. Aimee thanks him genuinely.

            "Why don't we get the hell out of here?" he asks.

            "I thought you'd never ask."

James laughs and grabs Aimee by the hand, the two of them running back to the car. James drives more slowly than he had on their way to the restaurant. By the time he parks outside of Aimee's house, it's dark. He opens the door for her in the same chivalrous way that he had when he picked her up. He walks her up the front steps and pauses there as she fishes through her purse for her keys. Aimee opens the door, stepping back down to hug James and thank him for everything. His hug is tight, real, another thing Aimee adds to her list of things she already likes about James.

            "Would you like to go to dinner with me Friday?" he asks as soon as she releases him.

            "If I don't have plans, yeah. I'll let you know."

Aimee stands there smiling dumbly, James doing the same. There is a mutual sense of excitement that is almost tangible.

            "Okay. I'm going to go inside now," Aimee states, placing her hand on James's shoulder one last time.

            "You should. And I should drive away."

They laugh a moment and Aimee finally walks back up the stairs and into her house. She closes the door for no more than fifteen seconds before pulling back the shade on the door's small window and watching to find that James had only turned around. He's still standing at the foot of her steps, his hands stuck in his pockets. She watches him curiously. He then starts to the car, pauses again, and this time stands there longer. Snow is falling and she wonders what he's thinking out there in the frost. It's almost as if he just wants to turn around. Aimee finds her hand on the knob. But she waits and watches until he finally gets into his car and drives off. She pulls the scarf from around her neck, and remembering that it isn't hers, she wonders whether James forgot it on purpose.

 

            The following day is such a bad storm that Aimee decides to work from home. She's pouring herself a glass of pink Moscato with dinner when her cell phone rings. Upon realizing that  it's James, she allows it to ring one more time before picking up.

            "Hi," she says.

            "Hello," Aimee breathes.

            "What are you up to tonight? It got so bad out there after I left yesterday."

            "Yes, it did. I decided to work from home. You know you forgot your scarf, right?"

James sighs, and she can tell that he's smiling.

            "I actually thought about coming back and ringing the bell to get it from you before I left, but I knew that if I did that, I'd have begged you to let me inside so I could make love to you. I told you, though, I'm serious about dating."

Aimee laughs, thankful that James can't see the expression on her face.

            "That's the kind of shit the _old_ me would have pulled, but I really did give you my scarf to be a gentleman. I swear," James states, clenching his fist nervously.

            "Thanks for your honesty. But really, why'd you call me?"

James breathes for a few seconds, "I just…wanted to hear your voice. And, I'm home all by my lonesome and can't stop thinking about you. And…I was reading your scripts—"

            "Wait— _scripts_? How many did Aubrey send you?"

            "Errrr…" James can't stop smiling.

            "Is that really important?" he asks.

            "I don't know…it just feels like…like you know far too much about me, and I barely know you. And some of that material I haven't actually pitched to anyone yet—"

            "I think it's _phenomenal,_ Aimee," James says genuinely. She finds herself at a loss for words.

            "And I'm not sorry to say that I hope you'll cancel whatever it is you're doing this Friday, because I'd really like to see you again."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've given different names to James's wife and child. It's really an AU type of fic. It would feel too strange if I used all real people. Strange enough writing about someone you've never even met. Moving on…

            James texts her good night at 8PM, not long after their phone conversation. Aimee smiles at the message before reclining in a hot bubble bath. She enjoys her space, all 2,400 square feet of it. At times, she'd thought about getting a cat, not to encourage the stereotype of the spinster, but because it would be nice to have a low-maintenance companion from time to time. But she had decided against it as many times as she'd thought of actually doing it because work sometimes required her to travel. She'd been overseas in places where movies she'd written for were filmed, and didn't really like the idea of anyone having the keys to her house if she needed a cat sitter.

            With an odd chill, Aimee wonders exactly which works Aubrey had sent to James. She had written many things that were left unfinished, and couldn't really stomach the idea of someone else reading them before they were ready. Her phone buzzes again and she reads a new text message from James, quoting her verbatim, and then she just about jumps out of the tub out of sheer embarrassment. The line he'd referenced was from a rather X-rated scene she wrote while slightly drunk, something she'd thought was by now buried beneath hundreds of pages she'd written since. Aimee can picture James sitting at a kitchen table, or perhaps in an armchair, probably laughing his ass off, and her heart races uncontrollably.

            She responds with two simple words: _stop reading_. In that moment, Aimee feels that James has crossed the Rubicon with her. It's suddenly as if he's sitting on the ledge of her bathtub, gawking at her naked body. Some of the things she'd written were written with the expectation that no one else would ever read them, just little fantasy things that she was too shy to share with anyone. She begins wondering how Aubrey went about sending these documents to her cousin; she must have opened the folders and picked the oldest documents she could find.

            _Don't be shy._ James responds. She places the phone back on the counter and pulls her knees to her chest. Across the way in his own place, James is so caught up in Aimee's writing that he hasn't been able to put his computer down since turning it on. At this point, he's no longer able to ignore the full erection begging to break free of his restricting jeans and belt. He'd never been turned on quite this way before simply by _reading_. Every sultry sentence, every description of arousal, and every brutally messy, detailed depiction had built him up to a point where he couldn't ignore himself any longer.

            He sits back in bed heaving and catching his breath, having taken care of himself. It was almost like watching porn, except the images were all in his own head. He reminds himself to tell Aimee what a great writer she is, in case he'd forgotten to do so already.

            "Shite," he breathes, brushing the back of his hand over a sweaty brow, picking himself out of bed, and heading to the shower. He finds it hard to fall asleep, despite getting comfortable. He had spoken on the phone to Elliot prior to calling Aimee, just to ask how his day was. The coming weekend was his turn to be with Elliot. It wasn't that he and Lynn didn’t still care for each other, there just wasn't the crazy love like it had been the first few years together. Rolling onto his side, James shakes his head, not wanting to think about his situation. The divorce had been otherwise amicable, for the lack of a better word. He just wasn't sure how it was working out for his son, and that part rubbed him the wrong way. He and Lynn had tried continuing to live together, but she began dating again sooner than James had, and it had made him feel awkward about the entire situation. He'd taken it upon himself to move out, not wanting to uproot Elliot from an environment he was most familiar with. He realized it still meant bringing his son into a new world, one where his mother and father were separated.

            James just about shouts in frustration, sitting up and staring at his alarm clock. It's only just before midnight. He turns his phone back on and scrolls through his emails until he finds the one in which cousin Aubrey had attached an array of documents that Aimee had written. James smiles sideways and opens the one just shy of two-hundred pages, which he'd finished straight after coming home from dropping Aimee off. He sits there reading almost until the sun rises, falling asleep with phone in hand and Aimee in mind.

 

            Aimee's takeout food has gone cold in her kitchen, only having eaten a bite. She's been on the phone for the past hour about her newest script, a love triangle murder mystery, something she hadn't really experimented with before. It was looking like she'd make it to the screen and for the time being, she's still trying to work on figuring out how to be the main director. Hopeful, but worried at the same time, she hangs up the phone after a long conversation with a director she'd met through networking. She sits silently in her kitchen for all of five minutes before standing up and going to reheat her food.

            The bell ringing causes her to nearly drop the China she carefully removed from the cabinet. Swearing, she places the plate there and hurries to the door. She can't remember inviting anyone over. It surprises her to find James standing there on the other side, a pile of paper in his left hand. He smiles big at Aimee and it frightens her for a moment. She knows what he's holding, and it shocks her that he'd bothered to find the time to print it all out.

            "Brilliant, Aimee," he says, breathlessly. Her whole face burns with trepidation. It's like James has been reading her diary. She didn't _want_ him to know so much about her this soon. She takes a step back and he starts through the door, reciting lines she'd written. The way he says them sounds like real life, like he's saying them to her naturally, and in a way it feels good to hear it. He continues reciting as she turns around and leans against the door to watch him, unable to help smiling. He's not even looking at the ream of paper in his hand.

            "James," she whispers, once he'd stopped, looking away shyly.

            "What are you doing here?"

            "I'm technically on holiday for the moment," he states, taking a few steps towards her.

            "I'm about to travel to promote the movie a little bit more, but I couldn't put any of this down, Aimee. I can't believe how shy you are. It's a bloody shame."

            "I'm not _that_ shy. As I'm sure you've noticed, not all of that stuff is even finished. They're just ideas. And I'm working on getting a movie together right now, and by the looks of it, I'll actually be directing." Aimee stands up off the door to her fullest height. James grins.

            "I'm glad to hear it," he says genuinely, "I guess I'm here because…I really wanted to tell you to your face that I think you're a phenomenal writer. Did I say so before…?"

            "In one way or another, you sort of did."

James's eyes are looking at her like he can't believe them.

            "Oh my, I'm sorry for just barging in here on you—"

            "No, no. I was about to finish dinner. I got some takeout, if you're interested."

James removes his coat and places it on the rack, holding the stack of pages he'd been so excited about under his arm. He follows Aimee to the kitchen, all the while making remarks about how nice her place is.

            "This is _definitely_ Anna's style—all elegant, but simple. I _knew_ that was you," he says, and Aimee's heart skips more beats. He'd pretty much figured her out from her characters. She laughs, not wanting him to see how amazed she is that he'd taken the time to really delve into her characters. He seems to want to understand them, and as a result, to understand _her_.

            "I…" James starts, not finishing his sentence. When Aimee turns around, she finds him sitting at her table, neatly halving the pages, as if he's looking for something. He briefly dampens a thumb with his tongue before turning another page, and as Aimee rations out two plates of food to put in the microwave, James continues to search for something. Glancing over his shoulder somewhat, it appears that he'd written all over the place and highlighted lines like he was going through a text book.

            "Feel like Dylan was wrong for her the whole time. If anything—the bloke had no idea what Anna was capable of, but he just thought she was a challenge. I _hate_ men like that," James states. After placing one of the plates in the microwave, Aimee just stares at James.

            " _Why_ did he even ask her to marry him?! Did he think it would get him to keep his dick in one place?" Finally, James looks up to find Aimee behind him, mesmerized. He grins sideways.

            "He's a real person—I just changed his name," Aimee states, shrugging. James cocks his head to the side.

            "A dickhead like _that_ asked you to marry him and you almost did it?" he asks, pointing as if he's daring her to tell the truth. Aimee shrugs.

            "I'll never tell."

James looks to be in disbelief, his eyebrows popping up for a moment.

            "Well, then it was his loss." The microwave beeps and Aimee blushes, turning to put the second plate on. After a few drinks and a lot of Lo Mein, James is laughing until he's red in the face, elbows leaning on the table. Aimee's writings are analyzed ad nauseam and chunks of pages are sitting between herself and James. She had taken her shoes off and let her feet rest in his lap under the table, and he grabbed her ankle, begging her to kill Dylan off.

            "If _you_ don't do it, _I_ will," James promises, tipping a beer to his lips, and looking genuinely angry. Aimee can't help but giggle.

            "I can't even _write_ this one anymore. I have no inspiration left for it," she admits. James slams his fist on the table.

            "You're gonna leave me hangin' like that?!" he looks utterly disappointed, but still smiles a little bit. He sighs and stares across the table at her with admiration.

            "I wish I could take you with me," he says.

            "Huh?"

It was like he'd been thinking this in his head and accidentally said it out loud.

            "I mean," James looks away nervously for a moment, "I'm leaving next Monday for a few more interviews and premieres. I'll be gone a few weeks. I wish we had more time before I go." He plays with Aimee's ankle under the table, pulling her pant leg up and down a little bit, almost as if he's nervous.

            "I'll be around when you get back," she promises, "And you're here now."

            "That I am…"

            "Well, why don't we do something over the weekend? I'll be free."

James looks devastated for a half second.

            "I would have asked, but this is my weekend with Elliot before I go. I intended to spend time with him before workin' some more. I'm sorry for bringing it up—"

            "Don't be," Aimee says genuinely, shaking her head.

            "…If you really want, we could still go somewhere, maybe take him to a museum or something…Shite, I don't mean to rush this all on you."

            "No, I get it. You're still a dad. I said I was okay with that."

James relaxes.

            "I'm really starting to like you, Aimee. Maybe it's a bit forward of me…" his eyes scan the pages between them, one of which has a snow pea sitting atop it, the soy sauce having leaked out of it and diffused the ink in the beginning of a scene until the colours began to separate out. James doesn't want Aimee to change her mind about him. He wishes he hadn't said anything about Elliot. When he feels a hand on his cheek, it startles him somewhat. Aimee caresses his face, which is just beginning to prickle with new growth.

            "I don't think it's about the timeline. I think it only matters whether people like each other," Aimee explains. James's hand lands atop hers and he turns his cheek to kiss the inside of her wrist. She reaches for the plates and picks them up off the table, somewhat abruptly leaving James without her touch. When she turns around to go back to the table, she bumps square into him. He had been so fast, she didn't hear him. Aimee laughs and James leans down to interrupt her with a kiss.

            James doesn't even close his eyes. The whole moment, he wants to see Aimee's expression. He doesn't want to have any doubts that she's in now, as much as he is. He can feel her smile against his lips, and when he allows her to breathe, there's some evidence on her face that he isn't wrong about her feelings towards him.

            "I've been wanting to do that since I walked in the door," he admits with a sigh of relief. Despite it having been a long day and wondering whether she looks as exhausted as she feels, James is looking at her with amazement.

            "Was that okay? Should I not've done it?"

            "It was perfect," Aimee says in an airy sort of way. With a sudden confidence, James begins to believe he is sweeping Aimee off her feet.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a point I'm really trying to get to fast, because it's driving me crazy! It was like I was writing this in my head while trying to sleep.

            He spends the night, but only because he falls asleep on the couch. They had stayed up talking , Aimee explaining her newest venture and her hesitations about letting someone else take the reigns to direct this whole project. She'd been involved in writing processes before, but this time, it's all her own creation. James had given her every detail he could recall about working with directors, and hoped it would give Aimee some idea of how to proceed. She turns the TV down lower, James's head heavy against her shoulder. He had insisted that he help clean up after they'd eaten, rinsing out beer bottles and drying the plates with a dish towel, asking where she kept the utensils. He was kind in ways she admired.

            His heaviness on her shoulder causes her to sink sideways. She laughs quietly to herself. His arms are crossed slightly, having gradually fallen apart in his slumber. She could tell from looking through the pages he'd printed that he must have been up all night reading her work. She glances at the papers on her coffee table, his frantic scribbling in the margins, begging to understand a character's intentions. She learned that this is how he worked. He probably couldn't have helped himself. She had this feeling that he had already seen her naked. Some of those thoughts were really private, but he'd experienced them. If Aimee had any hesitations about James, he was able to understand that it wasn't personal.

            He sighs in his sleep, his head sinking closer to her breast. Aimee laughs quietly to herself again, wondering whether she should wake him. But it's nearly one in the morning and she would have felt bad kicking him out. Instead, she shifts her legs up carefully onto the couch and begins to lie back, which causes her body to fall in a tangled way underneath James. She wonders how heavily he sleeps, because none of this movement seems to disturb him. She pats his shoulder softly, leaving it there and just watching him. His hair tickles her chin and she pushes a hand delicately through it.

            He smells good, not like a shit ton of cologne, but something close to it. She could only smell it when close to him, the way she preferred men to smell. His hair feels like feathers beneath her fingers. He shifts only a little bit, causing the air to be pushed out of Aimee's stomach. She finds herself squashed, having to time her breaths just before James's constant, deep ones in order to expand her lungs comfortably. Maybe she should wake him up, but she stops denying that she's enjoying his weight and warmth. His wine colored sweater increases the heat between their bodies.

            A deep instinct within her screams that she should tell him to go home, but it's not like anything is happening; James is fast asleep. Aside from kissing her every so often, he made no move to initiate something more than that. Him just sleeping on her was intimate in and of itself. His arm shifts underneath  her back and he squeezes her tighter than is comfortable for a moment before turning his head on her chest. It's almost like she's a body pillow. Aimee smiles to herself. She has no idea just how exhausted James is.

            She passes a hand down his back, beginning to succumb to sleep herself. When she finally nods off, James has moved so that his weight is on her left side unevenly, her right leg folded atop his. He's still holding onto her in a way that she's sure will cause them both to wake up with impression marks and some degree of soreness, but she finds it so comfortable that she let's go and drifts off.

            When Aimee wakes, it's because James is kissing her cheek. When her eyes open, she's shocked that the sun is up. James's hair is disheveled, which causes her to laugh sleepily.

            "I can't believe you let me crush you all night," he says calmly. He's resting on his elbows atop her, cognizant now of how much he's weighing on her.

            "You poor little thing," he says, pulling a hand through her hair. James was surprised himself when he woke to find Aimee beneath him, fast asleep. She was breathing so lightly that he'd feared he had killed her. She was roughly the same height but much smaller-framed.

            "You should have woken me," he says, grinning.

            "…You're still crushing me," Aimee says. James begins to sit up, slowly realizing that she was only joking. He hastily pushes hands through his hair and exhales as Aimee pulls herself out from under him. He massages his shoulder with a slightly pained expression.

            "You alright?" Aimee asks, pulling her hair into a bun.

            "It's nothing. I guess I've just got what they call the dad bod. Not as young as I used to be. Don't get me wrong—I slept _damn_ well." James is comforted that Aimee was able to allow him that close so soon. He had to admit to himself that it had been truly intimate to wake up and find himself all over her, her legs practically wrapped around his waist, his face in her breasts. Aimee begins to laugh rather hard.

            "Awww, you poor old man," Aimee jokes. James rolls his shoulder.

            "You calling me old? How dare you," he jokes, grabbing Aimee by the waist and shaking her a moment. She laughs and covers her eyes. He was like a Scottish teddy bear. She wanted him to just lie back down and cover her in his warmth. Aimee sits up and wraps her arms around him.

            "Awww," James says in the same way she had moments prior, "Hello," he says, gripping the back of her neck with a warm hand and dipping her over his lap as if they were dancing and he was dipping her to the floor. His fingers intertwine with hers, and as Aimee watches this happen, he kisses her. He presses his nose against hers a moment before letting her up. Aimee stands up off the couch, stretching. James is looking up at her with twinkle eyes as she reaches for the remote to turn the news on.

            "Oh shit," she says, realizing that it's past ten o'clock.

            "What's wrong?" James stands to meet her and she fumbles through the papers on her coffee table.

            "I don't know what I was thinking. I should be at work." James being there had caused her to totally forget about life, that she did still have an office where she liked to be when it came to meetings, at the very least.

            "I'm sorry. Do you want me to go?" James asks, feeling that he'd overstayed his welcome.

Aimee sighs, thinking about it. James continues to smooth his hair back, knowing he probably looks a mess.

            "Know what? I'm just going to take the day off."

She places her hand on his chest, grinning.

            "I would rather spend it with you," she admits.

            "Can't say I'm disappointed to hear that," James admits, smoothing his hands down her hips. It's almost as if he were talking directly to her body. Aimee's cheeks get hot.

            "I should go and shower and change, though. I smell like beer and Chinese," James admits. She didn't even notice it; he smelled good to her.

            "How about, I go home and do that, then come back and take you to lunch?" he asks. Aimee nods. James pulls her closer to him, giving her a quick, closed-mouth kiss before starting into the hall. Aimee allows her hand to pass down his back as he walks out.

 

            Fast forward to the end of the week, James finds himself dreading that he has to leave on Monday. He'd spent a lot of time falling asleep on Aimee on her couch, and then his when he invited her to his place Friday evening. He had given her the little tour, and even showed her Elliot's room. The whole time that Aimee walked into it and held a teddy that James planned to surprise Elliot with, he was trying to gauge how okay with him being a dad she really was. James couldn't believe it for some reason. Maybe, when things got more serious, she would react differently to actually being around Elliot. James feared it honestly. He hadn't found companionship quite like this with anyone before other than Lynn. No matter how much Aimee kept telling James she was fine with him having a kid, he just couldn't feel completely convinced until he could watch her interact with Elliot.

            Despite this, James doesn't want it to stop. Holding Aimee against his chest where she'd talked until she couldn't keep her eyes open, he only hopes she will remain this comfortable further down the line. Women changed their minds all the time.


	5. Chapter 5

            Aimee wakes around eleven, at which point, James is still sitting there in silence, watching her. She gazes up into his lively blue eyes.

            "I should go," she says.

            "Why? I don't go to get Elliot until one tomorrow," James explains, rubbing her lower back. Aimee yawns.

            "I dunno…I feel like I should. I'm so tired. I'm sorry," she admits sleepily.

            "I'm _plenty_ entertained watching you sleep," James admits with a slightly shy smile. Aimee begins to sit up.

            "No, no, no," James pleads, frowning.

            "It's just that I need to actually sleep in a bed. I can't stay awake—"

            "Then you'll sleep over. You can have the bed and I'll stay out here," James insists, just wanting to make Aimee comfortable. She rubs her eyes a moment.

            "Please, will you just stay?" he asks genuinely. Aimee peeks out from behind her fingers at him. He sighs with disappointment.

            "Did it turn you off to see Elliot's bedroom—?"

            " _No_ , _no_ , James. I just think you should take me home, I don't want to be in your way tomorrow—"

            "But what if I _want_ you to stay?" he asks. Aimee has sat up now, and James pulls an arm around her, kissing her forehead for such a long time, that she forgets what it was she was going to say. His lips travel down her temple, to her cheek, and finally make it to her lips. James pulls her back against him. She sighs, enjoying the sensation. He buries his lips in her neck, and he shifts sideways on the couch, turning so she ends up beneath him. A soft moan meets James's ears and this begins to turn him on. Aimee's hands planted on his chest suddenly and gently pushing him away cause him mild frustration.

            James sighs. She caresses his hair, tucking it behind his ear.

            "Will you please explain to me why you won't stay the night? I'll drive you home if you really want, but please tell me I'm not what's turning you _completely_ off," James says. There's an angry undertone to his voice.

            "I'm not turned off by you—"

            "Then it's because I'm a dad—"

            "No," Aimee reassures, gripping James's arm.

            "Look, it's driving me mental. I can't help but think that's why you're suddenly tearing yourself away from me—"

            "I've only known you barely a week, James. What will people say if—"

            "I don't give a shite what people will say. This," James states, pointing from himself to Aimee, "is nobody's business but our own. Why does it matter what anyone else thinks?"

            "I guess what I really meant was…I'm really fighting the urge to fuck your brains out," Aimee says bluntly.

            "I think that's where I've gone wrong with guys at times. We've only been dating for five days."

James's eyes widen.

            "Who said anything about fucking? I offered you my bed so I could take the couch." He can't help grinning, and Aimee's neck flares up. She stares down and away nervously.

            "Isn't it you who said before, 'I don't think it's about the timeline. I think it only matters whether people like each other', yeah?" He laughs once and cups Aimee's cheek so she looks at him.

            "I'd be lying if I said that I don't really want to fuck you, but that's not why I was asking you to stay. I want you to stay because I like being with you."

Aimee realizes she has to be careful with James, he remembered the things she said and did, like he was memorizing her. Was she like a script to him herself, something he was trying to learn inside and out until it became a part of him? This quality of James's amazes and terrifies Aimee all at once. She never experienced that from a guy.

            "You can have a shower and my bed, and whatever you want. Please just don't leave."

He's practically begging at this point. Aimee responds by nodding and wrapping her arms around him.

            "I just want to sleep with you," James states, leaning forward into the couch again, bringing Aimee under him. They both were reluctant to admit to each other how much they had enjoyed this before. James just wanted to be next to her, in her warmth and arms. It didn't matter if she slept, he just did not want to be left alone. They're both silent, the sound of the TV mere background noise. Like she had on her own couch, Aimee allows James to sink into her. His couch is somewhat smaller than hers, forcing them to be tangled in each other. James's short-sleeved shirt allows her to feel his skin this time.

           

            Again, Aimee wakes up to James kissing her face. But she only stirs. He hadn't intended to fully wake her. She decides she's just dreaming and continues to sleep. When she wakes up in a bed to the smell of something cooking, she forgets for a moment where she is. James isn't beside her, and there are more pillows than what she uses in her queen bed at home. She begins to wonder just how badly James sleeps. Perhaps he's tired of sleeping by himself. The thought makes Aimee's heart throb.

            Aimee steps out of the bed and walks into James's bathroom. Her makeup is relatively intact, but she can't wait to take it off. She had fallen asleep before she could take advantage of that shower he offered her. All her clothes were still on the way she'd left them, except for her shoes which she'd taken off upon sitting on James's couch hours previous. He had left her purse on the sink. She went to work wiping the powder off her face with the wipes she carried in her bag. She was glad James hadn't seen her wake up, the drool stain on her cheek creeping up towards her eye. She strips and turns the shower on, waiting for it to heat up.

 

            James's place is nice, but smaller, not meant for more than two or three people. She hadn't bothered to ask him how long he'd been living there. Clearly, it was meant for Elliot and himself. In a way, she felt like she was intruding. But James obviously wanted her there; he wanted her to stay through the night. She grabs a body wash that is sitting on the ledge of the shower. _This_ is what James smells like. She revels in the thought of smelling like him without him even touching her. It sort of turns her on, even more so when she reminisces their conversation before she fell asleep. He admitted to wanting her physically, and that itself was a turn on.

            "Aimee?" James's voice is soft at the door, which he had propped open without coming inside.

            "Hi," she says loudly, over the water. He wouldn't have been able to see more than her face and legs if he'd walked into the room, anyway, given the opaqueness of some of the glass in the shower door.

            "I've made some sausage, hon. And coffee. I was planning on bringing it to you in bed," he explains. Aimee laughs.

            "That's alright, I'm up now. I'll be out in a bit."

            "There's clean towels in the closet," James explains before closing the door. Aimee sighs, leaning back against the cold wall. She can't believe where she is and what's happening, how quickly this year is beginning to please her. After basking in her thoughts for a moment and rinsing all the suds from her skin, she steps out of the shower and wraps up in what appears to be new towels. James must not have been living here long. Her whole being smelling like James, Aimee waltzes out of his bathroom. She finds a robe in the closet, and after drying off, throws that on, tying it and leaving herself otherwise naked underneath. She slips her feet into her socks and walks out into the hall.

            She can hear the sink running in the kitchen, James talking. When she walks into the kitchen and James turns around, he appears surprised to see her there. Aimee realizes quickly that it's not just because she's in his robe, but there's a beautiful blonde woman and a boy sitting there at the table, already eating some of what James had cooked.

            "Oh," the woman states with surprise. She glances over at James.

            "I'm sorry, I didn't know you had company. I wouldn't have surprised you."

            "It's alright, Lynn," James states hastily. Aimee suddenly wishes she had waited to realize that James wasn't just talking to himself in the kitchen.

            "Daddy, who is this?" the boy asks, his mouth full of sausage. Everything is suddenly so real, and Aimee feels like she's crashing a party to which she wasn't invited.

            "Elliot," she says knowingly.

Lynn has stood up, a smile on her face, but one that is still so full of awkward that Aimee wishes she could just vanish into thin air.

            "I'm Lynn," Lynn states, shaking Aimee's hand. Her grip is firm enough that Aimee can sense her confidence, but not so tight as to crush her hand.

            "I'm—I'm Aimee," Aimee explains. Before anyone can say anything further, Lynn continues.

            "Nice to meet you, Aimee. I was just leaving. I was dropping Elliot off for the weekend. It was nice to meet you, but I really must go. James," she says, looking back at him once. His lips curl up at the side briefly.

            "Be good for dad and his friend, okay?"

Elliot nods, glancing out of the corner of his eyes at Aimee. Lynn kisses his temple before grabbing her coat off the back of the chair she was sitting in, leaving a fresh cup of coffee in her wake. Aimee listens to the front door open and close, the sound of a car starting up and driving away. Not really knowing what else to do, Aimee starts out of the kitchen and hurries back to James's room. She can hear him talking to his son, telling him to come into the other room and watch the telly while he cleans up.

            Not knowing how she could believe that this would actually work, Aimee pulls off the robe and walks back and forth, unable to believe she could kid herself into thinking this would feel normal. Even if James and his ex-wife aren't together anymore, they have a _kid_ , and if she were to be with James, that kid would have to be a part of her life as well. Aimee curses to herself, thinking to look for her clothes, her mind racing, forgetting that they're in the bathroom. The door closes, bringing her out of her thoughts, and she turns around to find James standing there, looking apologetic, but then just being distracted by her nudity. Aimee jumps. James averts his eyes to meet hers.

            "Aimee," he starts, she hurries into the bathroom and shuts the door.

            "I'm _naked_. Why didn’t you knock?" she says from the other side of the door.

            "The door was wide open," James explains calmly. The handle turns and she shuts the bathroom door again, locking it.

            "My _god_ , James—I said I'm _naked_ ," she restates angrily, pulling her clothes off the counter. She stuffs her panties into her purse and goes to pull her jeans on. James sighs on the other side of the door.

            "Aimee, _come on,_ just slow down," he says.

            "I thought you said you had to pick him up at one. It's only ten-thirty."

            "Lynn surprised me—what was I going to do, leave them out in the cold?—Please come out here so I can talk to you. I can't even see you."

            "I'm _naked_ ," Aimee responds, punching the air.

            "I know that! But I can't have a conversation with you like this," James admits with as much frustration as Aimee feels. He knocks on the door.

            "Aimee."

            "Let me put my _goddamn_ clothes on," she states, hooking her bra and reaching for her sweater, folding her blouse and putting it in her purse. She grabs the bag and opens the door to find James sitting on his bed, staring at the wall. He stands when she starts past him.

            "Don't leave," he says, bodily blocking her.

            "Please move," she says calmly, crossing her arms.

            "They just showed up. She decided to drop him early—I had no idea she would do that."

Aimee sighs, "I'm sorry. I didn't realize how much—how…"

            "You didn't realize _what_?" James asks, her silence killing him.

            "I don’t know if I can do this. If I was ever going to be introduced to your ex-wife, I didn't want it to be like _that_. I can't imagine what she thinks of me _now_. I shouldn't have stayed. So, can you please move and let me go home?" The entire time she speaks, she doesn't make eye contact with James.

            "I _didn't mean for this to happen_. It was awkward—I know—but please don't do this. Don't just walk away when we haven't even started." James places his hands on Aimee's hips.

            "I didn't want to meet your son like this," she states honestly, finally looking him in the eyes.

            "I know, it's not the way I would have wanted it to go, either, but he's only five. He probably won't even remember this. You're here now. Can you just… _try_ to make it work, only for a few hours, and then I will drive you home, and you don't have to see me again until I come back? Come on, Aimee. I know you feel that there's something between us, too." She had forgotten that bit, that James had driven her here. She could have left and called a cab, but deep down, she didn't want to have to do that. She's briefly reminded of how she took off after the premiere earlier that week, leaving James wondering. Perhaps it had been unfair of her. She should have considered how it would make him feel to leave him hanging.

            "Please?" James begs, "There's still a sausage with your name on it..."

Aimee laughs.

            "What?" James asks jokingly, pretending not to understand her response.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I am manically writing, I don't know.

            After James had sufficiently calmed Aimee down, she made herself comfortable eating breakfast in the kitchen. By the time she went to join James and Elliot in the other room, she had gotten over the awkwardness that had caused her to run. She pauses in the doorway, watching James crawl across the floor with Elliot laughing on his back. She had to admit to herself that it was an endearing sight to behold.

            James stands with Elliot in his arms, laughing, noticing Aimee in the doorway.

            "Would you like to say hello to Aimee?" James asks, setting the boy down. Elliot hides behind James's legs for a few seconds before peeking out.

            "Don't be shy, now, love. Introduce yourself," James encourages. Elliot walks over to Aimee. He reaches out for her hand and she takes it.

            "I'm Aimee," she states.

            "I'm Elliot James McAvoy," the boy states, his voice cute and small.

            "You're really pretty," Elliot says. James laughs quietly to himself, arms crossed and watching.

            "Thank you, Elliot. I'm flattered you would say so."

            "I'm going to my room," Elliot states, rushing away shyly. James throws his head back and laughs.

            "I wish I'd gotten that on camera," he admits, calming down. Aimee blushes.

            "He wasn't like that when he met Lynn's boyfriend."

James walks over and wraps his arms around Aimee.

            "See? He likes you."

            "He seems like a good kid. He has your eyes," Aimee remarks, "And he was so polite. You raised him well."

James looks thoroughly pleased to hear this.

            "Was that really so hard?" he asks sarcastically.

            "No," Aimee states. James kisses her.

            "Why don't you just spend the day with us, go out to eat, then I'll drop you home?"

Aimee nods.

            "Now, I'm not so surprised it took so long for us to meet. You just kept running away like a coward," James states. Aimee smiles weakly, as he's not really joking.

            "I've been honest from the start about this."

            "Maybe  I was just terrified of meeting your son, but it really wasn't that scary. I'm sorry I almost left."

            "You don't have to apologize. I'm just glad you're still standing here."

He kisses her again with meaning. Maybe the rate at which things were progressing was the way it was meant to happen. Aimee finds it hard to say goodbye when James drops her off at her house. Elliot had fallen asleep in the back of the car after enjoying pizza and a trip to the mall with them.

            "I'm going to be gone about three weeks. I just wish it wasn't so soon. We've barely spent time together," James explains, halfway in Aimee's doorway with his arms wrapped around her. It's raining madly just outside of her porch. She kisses James's face, not wanting to let him go.

            "I think I'm gonna really miss you," she says. He smiles.

            "I like that," he says.

She doesn't want to stop kissing him or for him to stop holding her.

            "We can go wherever you want when I come back," he says softly, hugging her again.

            "I'll call you," he promises, kissing her lips a final time before descending the steps into the rain. She watches him walk off, glad that Elliot was asleep and hadn't seen them making out. It just would have been awkward. But Aimee assumes that he'd already understood that his mom was dating someone other than his father. Perhaps the boy was used to it. James waves at Aimee before getting into his seat.

 

            His phone call comes much sooner than Aimee had anticipated. James calls her a little past nine at night.

            "I'm packing and I wish you were here to sleep with me," James says as if whining. Aimee's heart races.

            "I just wanna hold you," he breathes, and she can picture him lying back in bed with a dazed expression.

            "I want you to fall asleep on me," he laughs.

            "Three weeks is nothing, James," she says, "You'll be sleeping on my couch again before you know it."

            "Elliot asked about you. He realized you were gone as soon as he woke up."

            "Really?"

            "Mhmmm."

            "He's an interesting kid."

            "He is. He really likes the shoes you helped him pick out. Didn't want to take them off, so I let him sleep in them."

            Aimee laughs.

            "I just _miss_ you," James expresses, sounding exhausted.

Listening to him talk tiredly makes Aimee feel the same way.

            "Is that weird, Aimee?"

            "I don't think so. I miss you, too."

They share a nice silence. James pictures Aimee standing naked in his bedroom again. He'd been picturing it all day after she agreed to hang out with him and Elliot. He just wished that Lynn wouldn't have rushed in like she did. She almost cost him Aimee.

            "Are you _sure_ you can do this with me?" James asks, "If you have any doubts, I need to know now. I don’t know if you realize, Aimee, but…I don't want to get hurt either. If you just want to stop it right now—"

            "No, James. I don't want to stop."

            "Good. Neither do I."

            "I'm glad to hear that."

            "I want to see you," James says, sighing.

            "You sound exhausted."

            "I am. But I've been reading your stuff over and over again. I can't stop. I don't know why," James laughs. He sounds rather cute when tired.

            "Maybe you like it."

            "I do," he admits, "You really have a talent for writing love scenes. I've not quite experienced anything like it," James says, his voice a deep calmness. She can tell he's serious.

            "Thank you."

            "At least, for future reference, I have a pretty good idea of what you like."

Aimee's heart skips a beat.

 

            Sunday rolls up and Aimee sleeps in. When she turns her phone on, she laughs at a photo James had sent pretending to sleep, the same pages he'd brought to her home days prior strewn all over the bed. She wonders how long he'd stayed up. She texts him, telling him to enjoy his trip. When he calls her from Los Angeles, it had awoken her, but she wanted to hear him speak. He sounded excited, but like he missed her at the same time. It was hard to pull herself away from him, their conversations lasting over an hour at a time.

            James looks forward to the passing of the weeks, until he can be with Aimee again. It only bothered him slightly to speak with Lynn shortly after one of his many interviews on Split.

            "It's not an  issue to me that you're dating, I'd just like to be forewarned when you have women at your place if I'm bringing Elliot over."

            "Well, you popped in totally unannounced," James explains with mild irritation.

            "I knew you were leaving and thought maybe you'd like more time with your son. I just didn't expect to see some little harlot walk out half naked—"

            "That's not what she is—her name is Aimee—and nothing happened like you _think_ it did—"

            "James, forget it—you can sleep with whoever you want to. I'll call first next time. Do you want to speak to your son?"

            "Give him the phone," James states, not wanting to get into a bigger spat. He grits his teeth anyway. Almost a complete minute passes, and James listens to the sound of a door opening and closing.

            "Daddy?"

            "Hey, mate."

 

            James had brought Aimee's work with him, unable to contain himself. Her newest script gave him chills. He finds it hard not to tell her he'd gotten his hands on it. He wanted to finish it before making any comments directly to her. And when Aimee called to explain that she would be co-directing a film at last, he felt disappointed to be too far away to celebrate with her. He called her every day, and sometimes she'd call before he had the chance. One night she falls asleep talking to him. He had hung up with a smile on his face.

            By the third week of James's absence, Aimee had to move to London to begin filming. Though excited to get the ball rolling, she wonders how busy James will be, wondering if he'll be able to visit her when he gets back. He tells her he's excited for her, and she's surprised when he knocks on the door of her trailer to explain that he'd been cast the lead role in the movie. Aimee had otherwise been totally left out of the casting part of the work, and she feels like she's simply having a strange dream when James walks right in past her with some flowers.

            "I don't even know what to say," she states, clasping the bouquet of tulips.

            "How 'bout that you're happy to see me?" James asks, kissing her and pulling his coat off.

            "I _am_ , but I _really_ can't believe this…how did you—?"

            "I have my ways," he says mysteriously. She figures that's how much he enjoys her writing. He must have mentioned it to his agent and found his way into auditioning. She still can't believe it until James pulls her into his arms tightly. His smile fades a little bit.

            "You're unhappy," he says with disappointment, his eyes desperately reading her face.

            "What? Of course not!"

            "Don't _lie_ to me, Aimee. I can't stand it." For a moment, James looks like he might cry.

            "No, I'm just—I'm not thrilled that you're going to be making out with and pretending to have sex with two actresses while all I'm going to be able to do is watch," Aimee explains with some reluctance. James cocks a brow and begins to laugh.

            "And that one of them will kill you off, and—"

            "Ames, shut up," he says, guiding her against the wall. Aimee closes her mouth, watching James take the flowers from her hands and toss them on the table. He kisses her with so much passion that she can't help but grab him. His hands squeeze her hips needfully.

            "I'm sick of Skype dates. I needed to see you," he explains, keeping his nose pressed against hers. It had been tantalizing for him to see her and not be able to touch her.

            "Did you take this role just so you could see me?" she asks half -jokingly, grinning.

            "This is foreplay to you, isn't it? I know what you're doing," she says.

            "Absolutely not," James responds, and she can tell that he's trying not to laugh, "I actually _do_ enjoy your writing."

            "You're unbelievable," Aimee says.

            "Is this unbelievable?" he asks before kissing her again. She loses her breath. His hands travel to her rear and squeeze and someone raps on the door, causing Aimee to gasp. James sighs with obvious irritation when she peels him off her to go and answer. It was time for her to go on set for the first time.

            "I'll be there in a minute," Aimee promises. When she turns around, James is pulling someone else's roses out of a vase on the table and placing his tulips in the water.

            "Hey, those are from Aubrey."

            "Eh, she'll live," he says carelessly, smiling.

            "We need to get out there," she states, stepping over and grabbing his arm.

            "I was gonna wait till you came out and shock you, but I needed to kiss you," James grins. Aimee's face is on fire as he follows her to their destination.

            The day is long and filming becomes arduous. Aimee isn't disappointed with the choice of actors, she just quickly finds herself disappointed every time James has to kiss someone else. She began to get the feeling that this particular actress kept flubbing on purpose to get them to have to retake scenes where she and James had to kiss. He didn't make any intimation that he was pleased to keep making out with her. He was just polite and patient about it, but Aimee found him casting her apologetic glances every so often in between takes.

            James finds his way into Aimee's trailer and waits there for her to come back by the time they no longer need him for the day. To find him sitting there is still unreal, and she smiles.

            "I just kept thinking about you. That's the only way I was able to get through it," James promises.

            "You don't have to prove anything to me," Aimee says calmly.

            "You looked uncomfortable," he says as she stands in front of a small desk, going through her phone. James comes up and wraps his arms around her.

            "You should help me practise for the first love scenes," he says lowly into her ear. She closes her eyes as he pulls her back into him.

            "If you want to."

He starts kissing her ear, and at first she laughs, ducking her head away. James's arms ensnare her tightly. Aimee presses back on him and James releases her momentarily. She turns around to kiss him.

            "I'm sorry. I'm so tired," she sighs, holding his face in both hands and kissing him. He only smiles.

            "But can we sleep together?" he asks.

She thinks that it's funny how they do this.

            "Yes."

Aimee opens her camera on the phone and sets it to selfie.

            "What are you doing?" he asks curiously behind her, kissing the top of her head.

            "I just have to document this day. It's the one I've been waiting for so long now. Will you commemorate it with me?"

            "Of course," he says, hugging her. Aimee snaps the photo.

            "You should post it on Instagram and title it, 'McAvoy seduces director for lead role in latest film.' The more publicity you get, the better. That's how this industry works." Aimee laughs, relaxing into James as he continues kissing her neck from behind.

            "They'll just think I'm joking," she says.

            "Believe me—it'll make headlines in five minutes," James promises.

            "But wait…you don't even follow my Instagram. I can't tag you."

            "I know—I don't even use that shite!" he laughs. It's apparent that James is happy for her, and Aimee still can't believe that he managed to get lead role in her film without her knowing. He's holding her hand as they leave, and Aimee stops caring if it will matter to anyone that he's dating the director of the film. He was right; the more publicity, the better. She was on her way to the big leagues.

 

            James wasn't in the same hotel, so he switched to Aimee's, bringing his suitcase in during the night. Aimee had already showered and gotten ready for bed, and had grown so tired waiting for him to come back, that she'd fallen asleep. She wakes up to the sensation of him slipping in bed behind her and wrapping his arms around her. He smells good, as usual, and she drifts back off to the sensation of him exhaling into the back of her head.


	7. Chapter 7

            Aimee wakes up with the urgent need to pee. Generally, that’s what always wakes her. She can tell that the sun is up, but the curtains she had intentionally left closed block it out. James is breathing deeply behind her, his arm still strewn across her waist. She knows she'd set an alarm for seven-twenty and finds that it's only about five minutes before it is due to go off. She turns it off and rushes to the restroom to relieve herself. She brushes her teeth, turning sideways to look at herself in the mirror. She decides she'll wake James up on her own, but when she comes back into the room, she finds him sitting up, topless, rubbing his pale shoulder, eyes just barely open.

            "I woke up and you were gone," he says, his voice hoarse and still half asleep. Aimee smiles, crawling back into bed. He was just too cute. She wraps her arms around him, giving him a minty kiss on the cheek. James presses his nose against her neck and inhales as she straddles him. Almost as quickly as she'd sat on him, she gasps and readjusts herself. James only laughs through his nose.

            "That's what they call the lovey…dovey…morning…" James continues, rolling over and taking Aimee under him. All the while, she fights her laugh, " _wood_ , my dear, sweet Ames." Aimee can't laugh anymore as James allows his weight down on her. Only his boxers are blocking her from the full experience. He kisses her neck fiercely, biting her a little bit, harder when she moans in response.

            "Would you be interested in helping me with this?" he asks in his best seductively deep voice against her ear before kissing it. She smiles, closing her eyes, enjoying his hands traveling up the back of her t-shirt and grabbing at her shoulder blades.

            "We need to be on set in about an hour," Aimee whispers.

            " _Aahhhhhh_ ," James groans, sounding as if he still hasn't quite woken up. He knew what time they had to be there, too, but felt as if he'd barely been able to spend time with Aimee since surprising her in her trailer.

            "Would you _want to_ if we didn’t have to go right about now?" he asks, leaning on his elbows and trapping Aimee in place. He gazes down at her with a cocked brow and sideways smile. Her face reddens.

            "Yeah?" he asks, laughing lightly. Aimee nods.

            "I just would want to be able to sleep all day afterwards. It's just not the right day," she says, lifting her head to kiss him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

            "It's going to be hell watching you kiss everyone but me all day," she states, playing with his brown hair. James laughs through his nose.

            "I've gotta get my shower, and then you, then we go."

            "No," James complains, dropping all his weight on Aimee entirely. She laughs.

            "I don't want to go to work," his muffled voice complains into her skin. She pulls him up by the hair. He inhales through barred teeth.

            "Ow—ow—ow—alright, I'm getting up," James babbles. Aimee slides out from under him. James grabs her by the waist and gives her two playful, but rather rough slaps on the butt. She nearly tumbles over laughing.

            "I'm just playin'," he says, pushing her shirt up and kissing the middle of her back. His lips are heated there and Aimee badly wants to turn back and get in bed with him. But she hurries away to the shower before James can grab her any further, hurrying to get her shower.

 

            James is already in Aimee's trailer when she finally takes a lunch break. She finds him asleep on the small couch, hands folded neatly, script on his chest. Instead of waking him, she just sits there eating her sandwich. She is already exhausted, and by the end of the day, she is barely coherent. James had offered to take her out for dinner, but she complains of a headache. While she showers, James orders room service. He'd at least had a nap and was probably not nearly as sleepy. He's sitting barefoot and cross legged on the bed eating strawberries. Aimee just crawls into the bed and rests her head on his thigh, wrapped in her towel. James laughs and strokes her damp head.

            "You like directing, don't you, Ames?" he asks.

            "It's great, I'm just exhausted."

            "I waited for you for lunch earlier," he states.

            "I know. You got a nice little nap. I didn't."

He massages her shoulder with a warm hand.

            "What are you watching?" she asks, when the volume on the TV suddenly gets louder. James only smiles, looking on. It's some sort of entertainment segment, in which James's interview from a few weeks prior is debuting.

            "Are you watching yourself?" Aimee asks half-jokingly. He gazes down at her.

            "Just watch," he grins, pulling her up in front of him so that her back rests against his stomach. In the interview, he's talking about his next project, giving only a few details, and it becomes clearer to Aimee that he's talking about her movie. She smiles sleepily.

            "I can't wait until we get to watch your movie together," he says against her cheek, "It'll be beautiful." Aimee laughs tiredly, opening her mouth as James forks a bit of pineapple towards her.

            "You've done it, Ames."

            "Thank you," she says, yawning.

            "Are you going to fall asleep on me?" he asks, cupping her shoulders and meeting her eyes upside down.

            "It's not you—you're great—I just—"

            "I know, sweetheart. I was just hoping we'd finally get to actually celebrate together. Alone."

            Aimee grins.

            "In time. On our first day off."

James smiles sideways, and then he just stares at her, playing with her damp hair.

            "…What?" she asks. He looks a bit nervous, and she wonders why.

            "Shite…I haven't been this happy in a while," he says, not to anyone in particular, braiding half of Aimee's hair slowly. He stops and looks into her eyes again. Despite being at an odd angle, she's able to return his gaze. She smiles without teeth, kissing his cheek.

            "Really?"

            "I feel…" James scans the ceiling momentarily, as if searching for something, "Really good. Like… _really_ …" Aimee turns around to face him, sitting on her knees, then maneuvering in to straddle James somewhat. She pulls her arms around his neck.

            "Like you're floating on air?" she asks. James wraps his arms around her.

            "I feel like…"

            "King of the castle?" Aimee asks. James laughs, looking down for a moment before meeting her eyes again.

            "I'm _happy_ ," he says, meaning it, "So fucking happy."

            "I'm happy, too," Aimee yawns. James can feel his pulse quickening as Aimee kisses his chin.

            "I love you, Aimee."

In Aimee's near-delirium, the sound of the TV behind her where James's interview is still on disappears, and his words hang on the air as if they got stuck there. He's waiting with anticipation. But the silence starts killing him too much and he kisses her. She holds onto him a little bit tighter. She knows she feels the same but hearing him say it had actually caught her off guard.

            "I love you," he says again, keeping his eyes closed once breaking the kiss. He keeps his forehead and nose planted against hers.

            "I love you, Aimee," James whispers. He just needed to let it out at last. Something had changed since he'd last seen her and between all that time spent shooting long hours. Several times, he'd looked past the camera at her between takes, and had sworn their eye contact was some kind of secret conversation. James sighs. Aimee runs her hands down his back.

            "You think so?" Aimee asks curiously. James keeps his eyes closed, afraid to see her expression. Her towel starts to slip and he opens his eyes. She readjusts it, and her smile eases him a little bit.

            "Is that what _you_ feel?" he asks. Half of him is worried. He should have kept his mouth shut. Hearing his own voice in the background begins to irritate him. He presses the mute button on the TV.

            "I think I do," she says, pushing a hand through his hair. He cocks his head to the side, kissing her wrist.

            "Are you being honest with me?" he asks.

            "Of course I am, James." He really looks at her then.

            "Aimee," he says, cupping her wrist so that she stops stroking his hair, "I've just told you that I love you, and you look like you're bored out of your brain. Like you're about to fall asleep."

Her mouth hangs open a moment, and her blink is slow.

            "I _am_ about to fall asleep," she explains weakly.

It isn't that she didn't totally melt when she heard him say this, but she'd been fighting to keep her eyes open from the moment they walked off set. She can't tell whether he's upset or what, but he just unfolds her legs from himself and sighs, starting out of bed.

            "Why don’t you eat something? I'll get my shower now. Early day tomorrow, again."

He just throws his belt on the couch on his way into the bathroom. Aimee is left sitting there in the silence, unsure of herself suddenly. Was James angry? She wishes she could have just said it back to him. Maybe that's what had bothered him. Maybe he couldn't believe her unless he heard her say it. She wanted more than anything to be able to spend the entire day and night with him, but she wasn't used to working such long hours. It had been a fourteen-hour day, and James didn't have to do more than a couple of scenes at a time. Aimee hadn't realized how stressful directing would be. She wasn't exactly in the right headspace to think about anything other than making sure they got her script right. She knew James would live up to what she wanted out of him as an actor, but not everyone else she was working with. After finishing the food James ordered, Aimee tries to wait up for him, but he showers for so long that she just brushes her teeth at the sink by the mini fridge and manages to fall asleep before he comes back to bed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it would make me happy as fuck to see James McAvoy beat up my ex.

            _That was so stupid, James! Shoulda kept yer fat mouth shut. You barely know 'er! She probably thinks yer a madman now…_ In the shower, James mentally chastises himself. _No…she were just tired…_ He sighs, unable to make up his mind, standing under the hot water long after he'd washed his body. Aimee is asleep by the time he comes out with a towel wrapped around his waist. She'd left the TV on, and its light is the only thing illuminating her under the quilt. He sighs, throws on a shirt and comfortable pair of sweatpants before clambering into bed with her. Her warmth is inviting. He barely sleeps, not that it matters, considering how early they both  have to be up.

            "Good morning, Ames," James says turning off the alarm clock as soon as it goes off. Aimee begins to sit up.

            "Hi," she says groggily. She smiles to the best of her sleepy ability and asks James whether he'd like to shower first.

            "Ehm…no. All I need to do is shave. They'll take care of the rest in hair and makeup," he explains. Aimee hugs him before stepping out of bed. He hopes that his impulsive confession the night before hasn't fractured their fledgling relationship. Aimee doesn't speak in the cab on the way to set. She appears to be meditating, keeping her eyes closed and taking numerous deep breaths. Several times, James thinks to interrupt her, but he keeps closing his mouth.

            Little does he know, Aimee thinks that he's upset with her. She isn't sure how to approach him just yet, and decides it's in her best interest to focus on directing. Part of her had been worried that hers and James's dating life would have a negative impact on her work, something she'd been hesitant to admit the second he showed up at her trailer with flowers. They don't speak alone, as filming is once again an all-day activity. Whenever Aimee speaks to him between takes or while interrupting a scene that doesn't feel quite right, James begins to feel like he's only talking to a director and not his girlfriend. Aimee seems to be able to turn off their personal life entirely, which James believes is a good thing. At the same time, it makes him worry he's done some sort of irreversible damage.

            James is done for the day while Aimee is left on set with the crew and the two actresses she's getting tired of watching fake-fuck James. She even ponders telling the other director that they should cut down on these scenes. It had been awkward enough to have James on set naked with nothing but a sock to hide his nether regions, and watch him lie on top of another woman. James had filmed nude before, and it didn't seem to bother him, but he kept stealing apologetic glances in Aimee's direction after shooting those scenes, and she kept looking away uncomfortably.

            When Aimee returns to her trailer to pick up her things and go back to the hotel, she finds a bouquet of roses on her desk. She knows they're from James, but the note that accompanies them confuses her. All it says is, "I'm sorry. James." She stands there a moment, trying to figure out what he could possibly be apologizing for. And then she just starts laughing. His apologetic glances at her all day long start making sense. Aimee pauses in laughing, wondering whether he's also sorry for telling her he loved her. She'd thought he seemed pretty disappointed when she wasn't able to say it back. She sighs, sitting down for a moment. She pulls her phone out of her pocket to text Aubrey: _have you always been able to tell when James is upset with you?_

            Aimee waits for one whole minute before grabbing her stuff and rushing out the door. Maybe he's already waiting back at the hotel for her. On her ride there, Aubrey responds: _Believe me, you'll know! He's louder than bagpipes and he'll tell you what for. Why? What did you do?_ Aimee smiles at the text. Her heart races as she responds: _Nothing. He confessed his love for me last night and I sat there like an idiot. I think he's upset. I feel badly. I feel the same, but honestly, I'm worried about it affecting my ability to work with him on this movie. I don’t want it to._ Aubrey's only response is telling Aimee to talk to James.

            When Aimee walks into her hotel room, there is no James. She walks further in and realizes not even his suitcase is there. With a thumping alarm in her chest, she wonders then if those flowers he left her were an apology as in he didn't want to see her anymore. But she picks up a folded piece of paper sitting in the center of the made up bed that James had signed. She sighs, reading it aloud.

            "I'm sorry for leaving like this, but I think it would be better…" Aimee struggles to read his writing for a moment. It looks somewhat frantic, as if he'd written it in a hurry, "if we weren't sleeping together while filming. It complicates our working relationship…" He had scratched out a number of things, re-writing them, "And I think I need to focus on feeling heartbroken for the scenes coming up in the next few weeks. Not seeing you will help me do that…James." Aimee sighs. Although she totally agrees, she already misses him. In a way, it makes her smile that all they had done is _sleep_ together. There was no full-blown sex to be missing, but she knows she's going to miss James holding her at night.

            She admires James's maturity to be able to even do such a thing. Aimee considers herself professional, and perhaps it bordered on unprofessional to be sleeping with her co-workers. Suddenly feeling so alone, she decides to text James and ask what he's up to. Maybe he finally wants to go to dinner. His response disappoints her, though. He tells her he's practicing for tomorrow, so another night will be better. Nonetheless hungry, Aimee orders room service, and when she finishes that food, she can't stomach being alone anymore. She makes sure the room key is in her pocket before heading down to the bar. She didn't usually turn to alcohol, but tonight she was going to drink just enough to take her mind off of James.

            Aimee isn't sitting there for more than a half hour, watching some football game on the TV behind the bar, when there's a nudge on her elbow and someone takes a seat beside her. Whipping her head in the direction the nudge had come from, Aimee's stomach just about drops out of her.

            "I knew that was you," says Hasan, the ex she had _actually_ at last forgotten about. He's smiling, and almost immediately, she's fighting the urge to throw her fist in his face.

            "I thought I saw you earlier in the city."

Aimee leans back away from him a bit, hoping that her body language will tell him to get lost. She stares back at the TV, taking her gaze completely away from Hasan. His hand rests on her arm.

            "What you doing alone?" he asks, his familiar Turkish accent which once made her smile making her sick instead.

            "Are you finally directing film? I read in the newspaper your name—"

            "Can you go away?" she asks.

            "Why? You're not on a date, are you?" he asks, looking back and forth across the bar. At this time, James is walking towards the bar. He pauses when he spots the back of Aimee's head. She's still wearing the same outfit from earlier. The guy beside her is holding her arm. James maneuvers towards the wall and leans there, watching curiously.

            "What's wrong?" Aimee yanks her arm out of Hasan's grasp.

            "You were a spineless piece of shit to me in the end. I don't want to talk to you," she states blankly. He looks taken aback when she glances at him, like he cannot believe the words he's hearing.

            "What did I do?" he asks.

James leans off the wall to approach the situation. Though he can't hear the words they'd exchanged, he begins to think this guy is bothering Aimee. She stands up, telling him loudly to go away before she hits him. This, James can hear. He rushes towards the bar, placing himself between the guy and Aimee, who has stood up and looks like she's ready to go insane.

            "What the fuck are you doing talking to my girlfriend, cocksucker?" James asks, his voice almost cheerful. He laughs without humor. Hasan shrinks a little bit.

            "Get your fuckin' arse the hell out of here," James adds, jabbing the air with his thumb. The few people around the bar begin to notice who is speaking, and Aimee looks around. Someone has their camera out now.

            "What you call me?" Hasan asks, his eyebrows creasing with anger. Aimee grabs James's shoulder. He had surprised her, popping out of what seemed like thin air. And in the moment that James turns to look back at Aimee, Hasan, being the little bitch that he is, punches James in the side of the head. James stumbles only a moment, having been taken by surprise, and he punches Hasan so hard that he falls back off the stool, crashing on the floor and throwing his glass sideways. Before Aimee can explain, James is on the floor full on thrashing her ex. A number of gasps around her cause Aimee to remember that people are watching.

            "Oi!" the bartender shouts, running out from behind the bar. Aimee just stands there and watches. It appears that James is the only one getting in a number of shots, and this honestly makes her feel good on the inside. James bloodies Hasan's nose before a couple of guys successfully break up the fight. James's temple is slowly swelling up, and he casts Aimee a glance while practically being pushed out of the room.

            "I'm fuckin' cool," he states, ripping his arm out of someone's grasp. He disappears outside, and when Aimee is done looking on at Hasan's surprised and probably broken face, she walks away to find James. She steps out into the cold, but he's nowhere to be found. She only hopes he'd seen her snatch her arm out of her ex's grasp. She only hopes he didn't get the wrong idea. She realizes then that James must have stayed in the same hotel and merely switched rooms. He must have come down to get a drink when he saw Aimee's ex close in on her.

            She texts James frantically, stating that she had gone down to the bar to get a drink and that the guy bothering her was just an ex-boyfriend, someone she never even wanted to see. She paces in the lobby back and forth and back and forth, waiting for James to respond. After a while, she sits in an armchair there. It's almost ten o'clock at night, and Aimee just sits there for half an hour. James comes walking through the revolving doors, starting towards the elevator. He doesn't even see Aimee where she's sitting. She thinks to approach him, but watches instead as James pulls his phone from his pocket and his fingers tap away at the screen. As he enters the elevator, her phone finally buzzes.

            "Hello?" she says, having picked up immediately.

James is silent for a moment.

            "James," she says into the phone, desperately needing him to speak.

He sighs, "It was your ex?" he asks. To her relief, he doesn't sound angry at all.

            "Yeah. I don't know why he was there. I was just getting a drink by myself—I swear—"

            "You don't have to prove anything to me," James explains calmly. He doesn't bother to tell her he'd seen her sitting there looking irritated by the man.

            "Are you angry?" she asks, "Please tell me you don't think I was—"

            "No, Aimee. Don't even think it, hon. I was just…surprised. That was stupid. I can't recall the last time I've been in a bar fight. I'm not that kind of guy, but it just rubbed me the wrong way when I saw him touch you. I was coming for a drink, too, and I saw…anyway, did you get my flowers?" he asks. He sounds exhausted. Aimee reckons he must have taken a walk to get his head straight.

            "I did. They're beautiful. Thank you."

James sighs again, "Listen, I meant what I said last night." Aimee's heart begins to race, "And I hope that doesn't scare you. I can't help how I feel. I also meant what I said about what we've been doing. I can't keep working on this film while we're together like that. I hope that doesn't upset you, Aimee."

            "No, I understand. And I actually agree. We need to keep things professional for the sake of my movie."

            "Good…Goodnight, Aimee."

James starts down the hall, two floors above the one where Aimee is staying.

            "…Goodnight."

He hangs up. He grimaces only slightly, opening the door of his hotel room. He throws his jacket off and turns on the bathroom light to get a look at the bruise. The bastard had been such a loser that he waited until James wasn't looking to take a shot. He figures he'd looked worse before, and that it shouldn't be too hard to hide with makeup. If anything, James begins to feel like he needed that drama to put himself in the right headspace for his role. His character is supposed to be upset, and now that he actually is, conveying that on camera tomorrow will be easy as pie.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it weird that I can just write myself into arousal? Like, I honestly do have to change my knickers now. 

             It's hard watching James cry on set. Aimee actually begins to cry, her arms crossed as she looks on. He's giving such real emotion that she can't help wondering if he's still upset about the previous night. The moment she makes it to her trailer for lunch, there is an orchid plant on the small table. She stares at it for the longest time, wishing James would be in her hotel room tonight. He keeps leaving her flowers, a different type each day. By the end of the week, there's hardly any room left in her trailer, and Aimee had begun to sneeze from all the pollen.

            "Did you see that article?" he asks as she sits in the middle of bed, staring out the windows at the moon. Aimee presses her phone closer to her ear.

            "The one about you beating the shit out of my ex? Yeah, I read it once or twice," Aimee admits. James laughs tiredly.

            "It's like I told you, the more publicity, the better."

            "Yeah, but the story itself isn't exactly accurate. They just think you got drunk and started hitting people."

            James laughs, "That bastard swung at _me first_. I gave his arse a chance to leave, and he didn't take it. I can't be blamed!" Aimee smiles, rolling onto her back.

            "You have to stop sending me flowers. There's no more room in my trailer."

            "I'm sorry," he laughs. It seems like he's always apologizing, "I guess I just need you to know that you're always on my mind, sweetheart." She hates not seeing him off of hours, but he calls her most nights, asking what she had felt about that day. After the following week, James's character is killed off, and he stops coming to set. Aimee almost regrets writing the script that way, but she finds herself relieved that he's no longer kissing actresses in front of her. Aimee arrives to her trailer to take a break. She had begun to rearrange all the flowers James sent her on the floor. He stopped sending them, but space is still limited.

            There's a knock on her door, and she sighs, assuming it's the lead director asking to rehearse something. But when she opens the door and James is standing there with a bag of food, she's pleased.

            "James? Aren't you supposed to be enjoying your day off?"

            "If you invite me in, I'll continue to enjoy it," he explains. Aimee smiles with a sigh, moving aside so James can get in. He places the bag on the couch, patting the spot beside him.

            "You look lovely today," he says, eying Aimee's black pencil skirt and red blouse. She plops down beside James, resting her head on his shoulder. He laughs.

            "Hi, Ames. Directing is fun, innit?"

            "Gimme a sandwich," Aimee mutters. James hands her one and they eat in silence, Aimee leaning back against the couch. James follows suit, eying the small space.

            "Yer right," he says with a full mouth, "Good thing I stopped sending flowers. Can hardly walk in here." Aimee smiles at him. When she finishes, Aimee kisses James on the cheek.

            "You're amazing," she says.

James shrugs, "Sometimes," he says. Aimee watches James finish eating.

            "How long d'you have?" he asks, opening a water and drinking nearly half of it.

            "Maybe another half hour," Aimee states, checking her watch. James moves in to kiss her. She smiles at him and seconds pass before she kisses him back, Next thing she knows, they're making out. James unzips Aimee's skirt and she pulls back.

            "Oh, Aimee, _please_ ," James states, breathing into her neck, "I've been waiting for this so long," he admits, kissing her forehead lingeringly.

            "There isn't enough time," she states, gently pressing up against his chest. He had gotten noticeably excited. James examines Aimee's flustered expression.

            "But thirty minutes," he says, cocking a brow.

            "It really isn't enough time—"

            "What is it, really? Are you afraid I won't like your cunt, 'cause I've seen it already and I think it's _beautiful_." He squeezes her thighs and presses his lips into her neck once more as Aimee laughs.

            "Damn it, James. I just can't afford to get distracted like that while I still have hours of work left to do." He sighs and grumbles, resting his face in her chest.

            "Fine," he exhales. Aimee allows him to lie there. James reaches around Aimee's waist.

            "Hey—!"

            "Ahm jus fixin' yer up!" James mumbles hastily, and pulls the zipper of her skirt back up. He unbuttons her blouse until there's enough material open to touch her flesh. He kisses above her navel, his eyes closed. His stubble scratches her, but she sighs, reveling in the sensation and running her hands through his hair. James moans. Aimee smiles.

            "You're fuckin' strict. Complete business with _no_ play," James mutters, finally gazing up at Aimee. She giggles. James smiles reluctantly.

            "I feel sometimes like I'm a dog, and I keep begging, and you're just like… _sit_!" James exclaims, pointing down at the floor violently. Aimee throws her head back, laughing, James's voice following. And there's another rap at her door, causing them both to jump.

            "We're back on set in five," the voice from the outside calls.

            "Alright!" Aimee replies.

James sighs.

            "See? Not enough time," she says, pulling his head up so that she can sit and button up her blouse.

            "How about you meet me in my room at nine? I've got a few things to get done before I call it a day," Aimee explains.

            "Really?" James asks.

Aimee nods, "Your scenes have been shot. So technically, we're not really working together anymore." James looks like he can't wait until nine o'clock. Aimee grabs her phone and one of the waters James had brought.

            "Thanks for lunch, James," she says, kissing him on the cheek.

            "Any time, hon."

            "Now, I really do need to go. I'll see you at nine."

            "That's right. Just leave me here. All by my lonesome. With the flowers."

Aimee is laughing by the time the door closes behind her.

           

 

            Aimee makes it to her hotel room by seven-thirty. She decompresses, taking off her makeup, showering. By the time she comes out, nearly an hour has passed. She pulls on comfort clothes; sweatpants and a Queen t-shirt. Aimee texts James to come to her room earlier if he wants. All she planned to do is order room service and spend the evening relaxing. It only takes about two minutes for James to come down. Aimee happily allows him into the room.

            "Food should be coming any minute," she says. James grabs her by the waist.

            "Great," he grins. He continues leading her back to the bed, until she just sits there.

            "I'm not hungry," he states, slipping out of his shoes and bringing Aimee on top of him.

            "But I'll wait if you want to eat," he adds, running his hands up and down her back. Aimee's stomach growls.

            "Ooo, you _are_ starving, aren’t you?" he asks. Aimee smiles down at him shyly. He smiles back up at her.

            "Let's wait until the food gets here. I don't like being interrupted," James explains, lying on his side and turning so that Aimee falls on hers. He had practically carried her to the bed. That seemed to be the number one place where they spent most of their time.

            "Aimee, can I ask you something?"

            "Yes, James."

He kneads into her hip, glancing sideways a moment, his eyes like frosty orbs of indecision.

            "How do you feel about me?"

Aimee's heart skips beats.

            "I have utterly fallen for you," she says, just above a whisper.

            "Is that so?" James asks, his gaze following his hand as he brushes it up her arm, curving it up the back of her neck, and passing it between her shoulder blades rather firmly. Aimee nods.

            "I just always let men say they love me first. It's kind of one of my rules. Or, at least, it _became_ one of my rules."

            "You have rules?" he asks, cocking a brow. Aimee clutches James's bicep, recalling how much of a turn on it had been to watch him beat the absolute shit out of her ex.

            "Yeah. I mean…" his touch is distracting, his hands continuing to follow that same pattern all over her.

            "After being hurt so many times, I decided I wouldn't just throw myself headlong at any guy. I don't really know how to tell you."

            "So, then it was nothing to do with me, really…You're just protective of yourself."

            "Exactly, James," Aimee nods.

            "Well, Aimee," he starts, moving on top of her, "I'm not going to hurt you." She smiles.

            "This will only end if you want it to end," he says. She lifts her head to kiss him.

            "I love you, James. You're amazing."

This makes him smile wide. He looks relieved in a way.

            "Do you really mean that?" he asks.

            "I do."

            "Will you show me?"

He stares into her eyes just long enough, and the knocking on the door stops her from pulling her shirt off. James gazes towards the door.

            "I'll get it," he says kindly, stepping up and rushing to the door. He rolls the tray of food in.

            "Smells pretty good…D'you want it now?" he asks. When James looks up from where he'd placed the cart, Aimee is kneeling on the bed in nothing but her underwear. James's stare takes in every inch of her. He slowly makes his way to meet her, pulling his shirt off. At last she feels his warm flesh against hers. In no time, Aimee is completely naked against the tousled sheet. In the middle of pulling his boxers off, James curses.

            "Shite—I've left the condoms in my suitcase," he explains breathily.

            "I don't care," Aimee says. He had already thoroughly turned her on. She pulls at the waistband of his boxers, freeing a girthy erection. The tip of it touches her stomach. James bites his bottom lip, looking down at his excitement before meeting Aimee's eyes again.

            "You're okay with me coming inside you?" James asks, pausing, "'Cause I'm not really the best at pulling out," he admits with a sideways smile and small laugh.  Aimee nods, pulling desperately at his waist. The thought of it turned James on even more. Aimee nods hastily.

            Aimee lifts her head, continuing to nod, and James reaches down to position himself, entering her at last. They moan simultaneously. He honestly wasn’t so sure he could have navigated the hall and back to his room to get the condoms, anyway. She was far too excited to slow down and stop. _She just needed him_. Aimee's hands feel all over James's back, gripping him, memorizing his form. He starts off at an easy, gentle sway. James entwines his fingers in Aimee's left hand.

            "I love you, James," she says clearly. His heart just about stops beating.

            "Show me how to make you come," he says with a sense of determination. Just about every hair on the back of Aimee's neck stands. Her previous boyfriend had been a selfish lover. None of the guys she'd gone this far with ever even _asked_ her what exactly he should do to please her. Aimee blushes, wrapping her arms around James's neck.

            "This is good," she breathes, moaning, "But harder."

James acquiesces and her moans become more audible, ringing in James's ears pleasantly. She grasps desperately at his lower back, and in just under a minute, James can feel her tensing up, her insides grasping him tightly, pulling him inside her maw as deep as possible, needfully. He pauses, sitting up on his hands, watching her whole body trembling and contorting in pleasure. To his surprise, it had been fairly easy to bring her to this zenith. He marvels at her with adoration, figuring he could get used to not having to perform acrobatics just to get this sort of reaction. Her nails dig into his spine and he grimaces pleasurably, meeting his own end, despite having stopped moving. Aimee's body pulls and squeezes at his length to an extent that he had to give in.

            Aimee blossoms before his eyes, all of the blood coursing beneath her skin causing a mild enlargement of her perfect c-cup breasts. Gradually, she releases her nails from his skin. Her pawing had pained him in the loveliest way possible. Aimee places her hands on his shoulders, which are still hardened from the position of his extended arms. Aimee meets his gaze at last, blinking as though she has just awoken for the first time. There's a whole new life in her eyes. James smiles down at her dreamily. It was such a raw and primal moment; he could feel everything inside of her, the tightness, the drench of tension that had been pent up for weeks. The mess doesn't seem to bother Aimee, who continues to rub his arms and chest gratefully.

            "How was that?" James asks, having caught his breath. She only moans in response. Her legs tremble slightly and she seems not to have fully recovered far enough to answer. He could just have watched her twitching like that for the rest of the night. He smiles, thinking it was cute that she was so vanilla. He had tried to imagine what kinds of positions she enjoyed the most, but it made his job much easier to discover just how sensitive Aimee was.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Graphic (ahem).

            After Aimee recovers, they start all over again. And again, then yet again, until James is too exhausted to continue. She kisses his sweaty forehead, devouring the food that had been sitting there ignored for two hours straight. By the time she tries to offer some to James, he's fast asleep. Aimee wraps her arms around him, spooning him once she'd showered and brushed her teeth. He's too deep in slumber to know she's still there. When he wakes in the morning to find Aimee holding him, James turns slowly. Nothing that had just happened was all in his head. At this, he smiles, kissing her until she wakes up to see him. She grins, sleepy, reaching for a bottle of water on the nightstand. She takes a swig, before handing it to James, who had been too distracted looking at her to realize just how parched he is.

            "I'm sorry I fell asleep," he says after rescuing his throat from dryness. Aimee shakes her head, placing a hand on his bare chest.

            "You gave me your all. I don't blame you," she says, laughing lightly. James's ears burn red shyly. He turns back to her and wraps both arms around her under the blanket, kissing her with a closed mouth.

            "I never noticed, but you have freckles on your nose," Aimee explains, "Right here." The tip of her finger presses between his eyes. James goes cross-eyed looking there a moment, causing Aimee to laugh. He smiles.

            "Do you ever want kids?" James asks, pushing a hand through Aimee's hair, his head resting on the same white pillow that Aimee had fallen asleep with. Her eyes widen.

            "Why? Do you want more?"

James realizes then how scary a question like his must be for Aimee; he had genuinely forgotten just how new his and Aimee's relationship still is, and the fact that she had allowed him to have unprotected sex with her probably doesn't help ease the alarm. He blinks slowly, picking up her hand and clutching it.

            "I'm just asking out of sheer curiosity, hon," he adds. Aimee's eyes reduce in size and she's noticeably calmer.

            "Hmmm, I just remember…having this dream where I had twin girls. And it was odd, because they were these real-life twin girls that I was actually friends with in university…anyway, in this dream, they were _my_ daughters. And I remember waking up and I sat up in bed and just cried…it was this overwhelming feeling of agape—you know—boundless, all-encompassing love. I felt…terrific, in the literal sense of the word, as in extraordinary, and at the same time, _terrified_ , like…I kept being afraid—in the dream, still—that something bad would happen to my daughters, and I felt this overwhelming need to protect them, like my _life_ depended on it. Like I had absolutely no other purpose on this earth than to give them everything possible. And I think that that's what it's like being a parent in reality. So, I suppose that is my long-winded way of telling you that I'm split somewhere between no and I don't know…"

            By this point, James is sitting up on his elbow looking at Aimee, this expression of exact understanding plastered on his face. Though he is already generally pale, there appears to be no colour whatsoever left in his face, it had all drained as Aimee answered his question.

            "Yes, Aimee. That _is_ exactly how it feels being a parent…This is the very reason why I fell for you… _how_ do you manage to absolutely _nail_ these things—these things that you have _never, ever_ in your twenty-eight years of life experienced?"

            "I don't know. I just have something called an imagination, I guess," Aimee whispers, smiling and starting back a second as James reaches under her eyes to wipe away tears. Whilst speaking, she didn’t even notice herself beginning to cry. James smiles without teeth.

            "You are the epitome of brilliance," he says, staring at Aimee in utter amazement. He just continues to look at her, the sun shining through the curtains and reflecting off the white walls and upholstery creating a scene reminiscent of snow, or heaven, somewhere he felt himself to be then and there.

            "Everything you described about how that dream made you feel…is exactly what I felt the first time I held my son, the first time I felt him kick from inside his mother."

Aimee grins. Oddly enough, it doesn't bother her that James mentions Lynn at a moment like this. In the context of their conversation, she only thinks of the beauty in his situation, that he could still remain amicable with someone who he must still love somewhere in his heart, who shared with him the ultimate end result of two people's love for one another, a child. Aimee wipes her eyes.

            "I love you." James's hand clasps her wrist firmly where it rests beneath the quilt. It doesn't sound that strange to her anymore when James says this. It feels comfortable now. She finds herself glad that James had gotten to know her through her writing first. It gave her the chance to not have to explain herself and her behaviour every step of the way. For the longest time, she'd thought she had to find freedom from men, but with James, she becomes the freest she has ever felt in her life.

 

            In the chill of London, James pulls Aimee closer to him, enjoying her clutch as they move against the wind. They turn a corner and through the doors of an upscale restaurant, one which James had recommended. He wanted to make Aimee's day off unforgettable. But honestly, all she needed to enjoy the day was James himself. He still carries the newest set of roses he'd picked up when they passed the window of a flower shop. He had been unable to help himself, anything to make her keep smiling. He had something old fashioned to him in that respect. She had never been drowned in flowers like this before.

            At the table, Aimee tucks one of the roses into her ponytail, enjoying James's smile across the table. They don't do much talking, except with their eyes. James is looking at her in some sort of new way that either Aimee had been too stressed out working to notice before, or had changed since their night together. It makes her feel shy in a way, utterly exposed, but very much appreciated, and wanted like she hasn't felt wanted by any man before. James reminisces their first date.

            "Did you get the oysters because you _knew_ they were an aphrodisiac?" Aimee asks, something she had been dying to know since that day. James laughs heartily.

            "Yes…and _no_ ," he says, "I love oysters. I think I wanted to test my control, or something. There aren't a whole lot of foods out there that make me horny," he admits. Aimee blushes madly, only hoping that nobody hears what he's saying. Aimee's wine-stained lips wrapping around chocolate covered strawberries are hard to ignore, and James wishes they were back in bed in her hotel room.

            James's expression hardens during dessert, less than halfway through. He had simply trailed off, talking about his excitement for her movie. His eyes flit back to her, but his expression is so bothered that Aimee turns to see what James had been looking at.

            "No, no, no—don't look—" James starts hastily, sighing when it's too late to warn her. To Aimee's dismay, her ex is sitting at a table at the window, not too far away.

            "Fucking piece of shit. Bastard is _so_ obsessed with you that now he's stalking us," James mutters. Hasan appears to be so lost in reading the menu that he doesn't see James a couple of feet away. It had been weeks ago that James informally met him at the hotel bar, but the sight of him renews James's anger. Aimee stares at his clenched fist on the table.

            "James," she whispers, but he doesn't seem to hear her. His face is becoming red now, and Aimee positions her chair closer to block his view. James's expression eases immediately when he looks at her.

            "Hon?" he says.

            "Please, just ignore him."

But by the time Aimee says this, James is already looking over at the window again. He visibly glares now, and Aimee turns her head to find that Hasan has looked up. He looks extremely uncomfortable then. A guy comes and takes the seat opposite him. He tears his eyes away from James and starts speaking to him. Aimee turns back to James, who is clutching a fork in one hand, the other fist so tightly balled that the knuckles have lost the little colour that was there previously.

            " _James_ ," she says firmly. He keeps glaring hard, and when Aimee turns her head to look again, Hasan and the other Turkish guy who had sat at his table are headed for the exit. The man following Hasan nearly trips, trying to keep up, glancing back with mild confusion at James a few times. When Aimee looks back at James, he's smiling. For a moment, she was sure he was going to get up and go over there. And then he laughs.

            "What a _pathetic_ excuse for a man," he says. Aimee tries to keep a straight face.

            "I'm sorry, but I just couldn’t sit here and watch that little shite," he explains, sighing, regaining composure.

            "Was it necessary, though?" Aimee asks.

            "I can't be held responsible for the fact that seeing anyone touch you makes me sick to my stomach," James admits. Aimee's heart races.

            "See what happens if he tries to come up again," James mutters, fixing the flower in Aimee's hair and caressing her cheek briefly.

 

            The perks of having her own hotel room and room service don't get Aimee bored. After the near altercation at the restaurant, she suggests that she and James go swimming in the hotel's heated pool. Almost no one is around except an elderly couple who wade in the shallow end. James treads water in front of her, admiring the couple at the other end of the pool.

            "Hopefully someday," he says, clutching her hand underwater, "That'll be us." He gives her a wet kiss on the cheek.

            "What do you think, Ames?"

She kisses him as a response, treading closer and wrapping her arms around him. James leads her back into the ladder descending into the deep end. They end up kissing there intensely. James's tongue nearly smothering her combined with the heat of the water causes breathing to become a challenge.

            "It's too hot now," she says wearily, pulling her head back from James and grabbing his wrist, "Let's get out, yeah?" They had spent enough time there that she's certain James had forgotten about their dinner being interrupted by her ex's presence.

            "Okay."

At the elevator, James clutches her hand, and once inside, he presses the button for a floor other than her own.

            "Why don't we go to my room tonight?" he asks.

            "Okay. But I don't have my clothes there—"

            " _Precisely_ my point," James interrupts, leaning back against the elevator wall and eying her in her bikini. She had wrapped a towel around her head to stop her hair from dripping, and even while looking so silly, he still wants to ravish her. Aimee laughs.

            "You can shower and I'll grab your suitcase from your room. I'll be your little bellhop, huh?" Aimee rests her hand on his chest, watching the floors travel up. Making out in the pool had gotten him going, and watching Aimee stand there practically naked is only making it worse.

            "Which one is it?" Aimee asks, pausing outside of the elevator. James grabs her hand and starts leading her fast down the dim hall.

            "Why so quick?" she asks, hurrying to keep up with him.

            "Ehm, I just need…" James trails off. He glances back at her out of the corner of his eye briefly. He opens the door hastily and pushes Aimee inside. She looks at him with confusion for a handful of seconds, as the push had edged a little bit past playful, and was enough that the towel was knocked off her head. James locks the door and picks her up bridal style.

            Aimee laughs as James throws her into bed. He pulls the towel off his shoulders, draping it on the nightstand, pushing his wet hair back. He grabs her by the ankle, and without any warning, pulls her bikini bottom off, going for the top straight afterwards. Aimee sighs, watching James kiss her navel all over, until he travels down, and further down still, draping each of her legs over his shoulders. Aimee grasps a handful of James's hair gently. She sends him a shy smile. He simply cocks a brow, grinning impishly a moment, and Aimee watches as he slowly bows his head between her thighs. James is waiting for a reaction, for Aimee to tell him not to go any further, but then her head just falls back against the bed and she allows him to take over.

            The chlorine entangles itself in her scent, which he had become very familiar with in the night prior. It only bothers him slightly that the pool had interfered with what he had become used to, an almost metallic scent that now, tasting her, doesn't quite match. He pictures Aimee indulging in the fruit salad they'd shared before, and it matches the barely perceptible sweet taste inside of her. He undulates his tongue roughly, earning a gasp from Aimee, who yanks his hair somewhat. He smiles against her lips, gazing up the mountain that is her stomach projecting upward due to the sudden arch of her back.

            He pulls back to blow teasingly at her, earning just about the same reaction. And licking his lips, he continues, loving the way in which Aimee loses her shit. He had never been with a woman so sensitive; every minor thing he did sent her spiraling, even his breathy exhales between her thighs. James presses his mouth harder to her cunt, licking upwards in a scraping fashion.

            "J-James," she gasps, grasping her breast. He continues for a few more minutes, and at last, he pulls his tongue free and engulfs her now budding clitoris. He moans, knowing the vibrations from his voice will intensify the feeling. Aimee practically shouts, sitting up halfway. She pants uncontrollably, James making eye contact with her as she watches.

            "Fuck me now," she breathes, squirming. James kisses her mound before lifting his head, but instead, he threads two fingers inside Aimee, curling them towards himself, watching Aimee fall back against the bed again. He had grown to full size now, but wanted to send Aimee over the edge before he fucked her. James's deftly skilled fingers did exactly what Aimee was waiting for. Even while trembling, she swears she hears James laugh lightly. He's clearly enjoying what he's doing, tantalizing her.

            "There it is, sweetheart…there we go," James breathes, watching Aimee's body rolling like a wave violently hitting the shore repeatedly. The motion seems to trickle down from her swelling breasts through her ribcage, passing her abdomen, fragmenting at the hips to course through each long, slender leg, meeting him at the squeezing sensations around his index and middle fingers inside her, which he finds more difficult to twist and turn during Aimee's orgasm. He had even enlisted a thumb, as not to give her clit a rest. James meant to exhaust the hell out of her.

            His pulsing causes Aimee to squirt, and he can't stand simply watching anymore, James rips away his damp swim trunks and fumbles a moment with his erection before jutting it right into Aimee's pulsing tightness. And she gasps, clutching his shoulders, eyes widened in what looks like amazement. James's grunt meets her ears pleasantly, and it feels like he's trying to cram himself as far in as is humanly possible. Had she not been thoroughly on, it would have hurt like the devil. It doesn't take him long to finish, and by the time he does, Aimee succumbs to another orgasm, pulsating around him, milking him.

            "Oh my god," he exhales, vocal in his pleasure, his hands curling into the quilt in pleasant agony. Aimee was perfect from the inside out.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another shoutout to ARogueGambit7, AKA Aubrey. She is in this chapter doing one of the various things she does best.
> 
> Drawing near the end of this story, I think. I think it was a story that I wanted to write to explore my own feelings regarding divorce, something my parents are going through right now. Though not nearly an amicable separation, it's a theme that is actually salient in my life at this present time. I'm an adult, but this is affecting me and my younger sibling. Perhaps she is Elliot, but a version of him that isn't nearly as pain-stricken.

            James awakes to the sound of his cell phone buzzing on the nightstand. He sits up, looking around, confused a moment.

            "Shite," he curses under his breath, not wanting to wake Aimee, who is fast asleep beside him under the covers. Lynn's name appears on the screen and he picks up, rushing into the bathroom, butt naked, closing the door quietly.

            "Lynn?" he says, staring through squinted eyes in the light of the bathroom, still adjusting. She sighs on the other end of the line, and he can tell that she's crying. Instinctively, James's heart clenches.

            "Elliot's in surgery—he's just broken his arm," she explains hastily. Before Lynn even said Elliot's name, James just knew that something was wrong with him.

            "I'm on my way—tell me where," he says hastily, suddenly totally awake. James rushes quietly back out of the bathroom and finds a pen and notepad on the desk by the window. The sun peaks in at him through the mostly shut curtains as he jots down the address of a hospital in London.

            "I'm on my way—I'm on my way now," he promises, "Just hold still."

James doesn't bother to even brush his teeth, hopping into a pair of pants and long-sleeved shirt. His heart is thumping, not so much from the pace at which he's moving, but because he can't stomach the idea of Elliot in surgery and in pain. Cramming his sockless feet into shoes, James pauses at the bed where Aimee is fast asleep prone, her head turned to the side so that he can see her closed eyes.

            "I'm sorry," he whispers, kissing her gingerly on the temple, smoothing hair behind her ear before grabbing his wallet and coat and heading out the door. James hails a cab. It's only after nine a.m. and James's head is buzzing with a myriad of questions. He just needs to look at Elliot now, know that he's alright. By the time he makes it into the emergency room, he quickly finds Lynn pacing anxiously, biting her nails, looking broken. He rushes over to her, clasping her shoulders, which seems to shock her, as she gasps, having been in her own little world.

            "He's in with the surgeon," she breathes, after recognizing James.

            "How did—?"

            "On a play date, at the park. He fell off the jungle gym," Lynn explains. Her eyes are red from crying. A fresh tear rolls down her cheek.

            "I was watching, and then he was screaming, just _screaming_ —" Lynn's eyes pinch shut tightly, as if she is trying not to see something horrible, "My baby, my baby," she mutters, weeping afresh. James glances down the hall at a person in a white coat walking briskly. His heart won't stop thumping. James stares at the doctor, Lynn's sudden movement making him aware that he's still holding onto her. The doctor approaches a man who is sitting not far away.

            "How long has he been in—?"

            "Just now—maybe twenty minutes. I called you straight after they took him in," she explains, sniffling and wiping her nose. Lynn buries her face into James's chest.

            "H-he's going to be alright," James says, wanting to believe himself. He pulls his arms around Lynn fearfully, anxious for someone to come out and tell him his boy is alright.

 

            Aimee awakens to pure peace and quiet. A second day off in a row is rare to come by. But when she turns in bed to find James gone, and makes it to the bathroom to realize that it's also empty, she is suddenly confused. She smiles to herself, assuming that James has gone to get them breakfast to share, and probably more flowers to fill her room. He had brought her suitcase to his room and she'd stayed overnight, talking with him and exploring him again. After she's dressed, and James still hasn't made an appearance, Aimee decides to text him.

            When her message goes unanswered for an hour, she calls him. When his phone goes straight to voicemail, that's when she begins to worry. She knows he wouldn't just leave; his stuff is still there in his room. He didn't check out yet. He would not have bailed on her for no apparent reason. They'd had an amazing day prior, wining and dining, walking throughout the city. James had even suggested they go see a play, but Aimee had only wanted to swim, knowing that the hotel was luxurious enough that its amenities included a heated pool.

            James doesn't sit down for most of the time he's in the waiting room at the ER with Elliot's mom. The boy is in the operating room. James had felt his phone vibrate in his back pocket, knowing that it was Aimee calling. Lynn had looked at him when it rang. He lets it ring an hour later, the sound stopping when James presses the button on the side. He knows that he cannot speak to Aimee while he's not in his right mind. He can't bring himself to think about anything but his son, and worry maddeningly. _Aimee is probably worried about you_ , he thinks, pressing buttons on the vending machine and pulling out two iced teas, one for Lynn and one for himself. She had sat down, staring into place, seemingly brought out of her thoughts by James handing her the bottle.

            "Thanks," she says emotionlessly, sighing, pinching the bridge of her nose.

            "Did they say just his arm was broken?" James asks calmly. Lynn nods.

            "Then he _has_ to be okay," James explains, clearly wanting to make himself feel better, not just Lynn. For the first time, James realizes that Lynn had been by herself the entire time before he got there.

            "Where's your fella?" he asks, sitting at last beside her. Lynn is silent for an uncomfortable handful of seconds.

            "I didn't call him," she states. She's quiet for a few more seconds, "I called _you_ —Elliot's father. It didn't even…occur to me to ring Brett. Elliot gets along with him, but he'll want to see his da when he comes too. I just want him to be comfortable," Lynn explains, bouncing a knee.

            "Brett makes Ellie uncomfortable?" James asks. He had met the guy a couple of times, and didn't really have much to say about him, but Lynn seemed to be crazy for him. Initially, when he was still newly single again, it had somewhat hurt James to watch Lynn be unable to keep her hands off of Brett. It just reminded him of how it used to be between himself and Lynn. From the little that James had seen of Elliot's interactions with Brett, he could trust him far enough that he could see his intentions were to take good care of his son and former wife. Finally, Lynn opens her mouth to respond, and looks James in the eye, but then she stands and wrings her hands, eager to hear from the doctor who has finally made an appearance. The doctor introduces herself, shaking Lynn's hand, followed by James's.

            "Elliot is still under anesthesia at the moment, but the surgery went very, very smoothly. His left arm is broken in two places," she continues and James cringers, eyes watering. He is horribly pained to imagine the type of pain his son will be in when he awakens. Lynn had begun to cry again upon seeing Elliot asleep, his arm cast up. James rubs her back as she caresses the boy's sleeping face gently.

            "I'm staying over with you and Elliot tonight," James explains.

            "Yes, of course," Lynn breathes, wiping her eyes. She turns to James.

            "This shouldn't have happened. I was talking with his friend's mum. I should have…It's all my f—"

            " _No_ , Lynnie," James stresses, pulling her into his arms. She clings to him. Keeping Elliot comfortable is the only thing James can focus on now. When Elliot awakens, he is somewhat disoriented. The boy starts to cry and James busies himself trying to calm him down. He refuses the wheelchair on their way out of the hospital, wanting James to carry him. His phone buzzing in his back pocket reminds James of Aimee. After setting Elliot down in Lynn's car, he glances at the time to find that it has been almost five hours since he left her sleeping in his hotel room. He wants to answer her text, but can't focus clearly enough as he and Lynn drive Elliot home.

 

            Aimee takes her suitcase back to her own hotel room. She assumes that something must have happened that James had to attend to, some type of family emergency. She only hopes that everything is okay and decides to stop bothering him for a bit. Aimee orders room service and watches one of her favourite movies with James in it, Atonement. The entire time, she imagines herself in place of Keira Knightley. By the time that's over, she's simply crying, missing him. She decides that she doesn't want to spend the rest of her evening off totally alone, crying at James's movies. She sighs, phoning Aubrey, who she can barely hear due to some type of loud music in the background.

            "Hello? Hello?!" The call ends and Aimee sighs, wondering why Aubrey would even bother answering in the first place if she's at a club or concert. When Aimee returns from a much needed piss, she finds a handful of texts from Aubrey, explaining that she's about to perform a show. Aimee had seen her belly dance before, but it has been a while. Aubrey asks what was up, and after Aimee responds that she's bored out of her mind on her day off, James having had to do something without her, Aubrey suggest that Aimee come to watch her dance; she'll tell the bouncers at the club's gate to let her through.

            Aimee changes into a tight dress, something to make her feel a little uplifted. Ruing that James isn't with her to make her feel sexy, she throws on a jacket, steps into some heels, and makes her way to the lobby to get a cab. The music is loud in the scene where she gets immediately sucked into a crowd. It doesn't take her long to find Aubrey popping out chest camels, hip lifts, and figure eights to live fast-paced Darbuka and oud at the side of the stage, her hair flowing long and freely, body adorned with an ornate purple and gold-sequined piece.

            Aimee stops and stares in utter amazement, trying to get closer to the stage and hoping that Aubrey will see her. The crowd begins clapping in time with Aubrey's motions, and soon enough, Aimee finds herself smiling from ear to ear, completely drawn in.

 

 

            Only after Elliot is fed, medicated for pain, and napping can James bring himself to even moderately relax. Lynn stays sitting at Elliot's bedside, chin resting atop folded fingers. James quietly closes the door, pulling his phone out of his back pocket. He still hasn't addressed the missed text messages or phone calls from Aimee. With a pang of guiltiness, he makes his way all the way down to the kitchen, where he knows nothing will disturb his sleeping son.

            Aimee feels her phone vibrate in her hand. She had forgotten she was actually still holding the device, to be honest. She glances down at the ID photo she'd used, the picture of herself and James she had taken the day he showed up on set and told her he was starring in her movie. The picture makes her smile, but she knows she won't make it through the crowd and out into the cold in time to be able to hear James. So she ignores the call, tucking the phone into her purse, looking up to find that Aubrey has spotted her at last and is clearly pleased to see her.

            James sighs, waiting for the beep. He shivers momentarily, realizing he hasn't eaten all day. He sits at the table, which is different from the table that had been there while he and Lynn were still living together. He only hopes that Aimee is busy and not angry with him.

            "Aimee? I'm _so_ , _so_ sorry," he starts, "It's been such a rough day for me. Something came up with Elliot. I had to go straight away. I…" he finds himself at a point of exhaustion, not knowing where to continue for a handful of seconds, "My darling, I had this amazing day planned for the two of us. I'm sorry we couldn't spend it together. Just please try and get a good night's sleep. I'm not sure when I'll be back to the hotel yet. For me, focus on your movie…you're amazing…" he stares around what looks like a completely new kitchen, feeling out of  place, and stupid for talking into empty space, "I love you, sweetheart…Goodnight." James sighs, plugging in his phone at an outlet on the counter. He roams the fridge, reheating something Lynn had made, staring at the wall as he eats alone.

            He washes the dish and wanders to the den where the couch is new. When he lies back on it, the ceiling seems to be the only thing which hasn't changed. He can hear the clock ticking. There are family photos sitting on a bureau, and Lynn had left up the ones where he's involved, so perhaps things aren't entirely new now. But to James, it no longer feels like his house. He decides he had better try and sleep, so he can help deal with Elliot in the morning.

            Brett had moved into James's old room, which he finds upon habitually making his way there. Lynn pauses behind him in the hall, clearing her throat.

            "He's actually on a business trip. Out of town," she explains. James closes the door hastily.

            "Guest room is—"

            "Thank you," he interrupts, starting past Lynn.

James tosses and turns more than he would like to, getting only a few hours of sleep. When he wakes up, Elliot is already moaning. He makes his way to Elliot's room. When he stops there, Lynn is helping him into a clean shirt. Elliot smiles over at James. His presence seems to keep his suffering to a minimum. After breakfast, James sits with Elliot in his lap, watching cartoons, and it feels almost like he has gone back in time to before his divorce. It's a strange feeling, but Elliot is really the reason he's there. Smoothing a hand over Elliot's head, James kisses him there.

            When Aimee returns rather late from Aubrey's show, she knows she'll be in zombie mode when her day begins early the next day. Right before she goes to sleep, she listens to James's message a handful of times. He sounds so sweet and so apologetic that she hopes he doesn't think she's angry with him. She drifts off wondering what it was he had planned for them to do that day. It isn’t until two days later that, he interrupts her lunch in her trailer.

            "I'm so sorry for taking off the other day. I feel so badly that…like I'm such the _worst_ boyfriend that…" Aimee just looks at James fumbling. He looks out of his mind exhausted, dark circles under his eyes.

            "I can't think of a result clause far good enough to explain what an arsehole I feel like," James says, stepping up one step into the doorway of Aimee's trailer. He doesn't come in any further, looking uncertain that Aimee will allow him to.

            "You're busy—I'm sorry, love," he says, his voice still sounding the way it does a few minutes after he wakes up. He looks even paler than usual, like he hasn't slept.

            "I should leave you to focus on perfecting your movie—"

            "No, I'm just surprised you're here. You should be with Elliot," she explains, placing a hand on his shoulder. He had called her again the day after leaving to explain what had happened.

            "I had to see you. Lynn and her boyfriend took Ellie for lunch. I just…didn't want to feel like some sort of…" James rubs his hands together, glancing sideways, looking for the right words.

            "Weird fourth wheel…flat tire—I dunno."

Aimee laughs. James smiles sleepily, closing his eyes. She tugs his arm and he opens them.

            "Come in," she says. She goes to place her water on the desk, hearing James close the door. When she turns around, he pulls her to him without warning, just hugging her tightly like he hasn’t seen her in months.

            "It's okay, James," she says under her breath, barely able to breathe due to his hold.

            "It's not. I didn't want to leave you like that. I should have woken you up. Elliot asked about you. I didn't know what to tell him."

Aimee finds herself surprised. She'd only met Elliot once months prior. James loosens his grip enough that Aimee can breathe again.

            "James, you look _exhausted_ ," she says, cupping his head in both hands and looking concerned. He glances off to the right momentarily. He doesn't want to tell Aimee about his arguments with Lynn over Brett moving in. She hadn't entirely answered his question in the ER when he asked whether Brett made Elliot uncomfortable, and she just played it off as him being jealous that there's a new man in her life that isn't him, telling James he has to move on and get over her. It had rubbed him the wrong way. He hadn't slept well the entire time he was over with Lynn and Elliot, and when Brett came back out of the blue, it didn't matter that there was a guest room, he didn't want to be near Lynn and her confusion that he wasn't over her. The only way he was able to leave Elliot was the fact that he knew Lynn guarded him with her life, and if she had even the slightest inkling that Brett wasn't good enough for their son, she wouldn't have let him move in.

            "James?" Aimee's voice breaks him from his thoughts. He had been staring at her emptily. He smiles and kisses Aimee, but she continues to look concerned. He presses his forehead to hers.

            "It's just not easy when your kid is hurt and you can't do much to help them," he says.

            "I'm sure it is…which is why you shouldn't be here—"

            "He needs some alone time with his mother," James interrupts. Aimee is suddenly under the impression that James is too tired to have serious conversations. She forces him over to the couch where he lies supine while she finishes her lunch.

            "I'm gonna make it up to you. I promise," James explains, staring at the ceiling.


	12. Chapter 12

 

 

           After watching and editing a scene from weeks prior on her own when James was still coming to set, Aimee finds herself crying, wishing she hadn't killed his character off. The story line was a mix of romance and tragedy, and her heart aches as if the story is her actual life. Some of it _is_ ; she has always littered bits and pieces of herself into her stories. The way that James portrays her character brings him to life in a way she can't be sure any other actor would have achieved. Aimee makes a mental note to thank James again for this, knowing he'll just say the same thing he always says to her, that she is the epitome of brilliance, that he's a mere pawn in the chess game that is film, that had it not been for her skills as a writer, his delivery of her script would mean nothing. He could be so modest that way, but it's always genuine modesty.

            Aimee rushes into her trailer at the end of the day, crying afresh about the sheer realness of the acting. She had started off irritated watching actresses kiss or touch James, even if they didn't mean it to mean anything deep down, but the cast that was chosen turns out to be delivering her writing in the most inexplicably amazing way. She figures that she should also stop watching Atonement before she goes to sleep every night. Every night since James had gone to help take care of his son, Aimee had put it on and fallen asleep to it, sometimes ending up in the scenarios of the film in her dreams. It doesn't help her to stop missing him. In fact, it makes her miss him even worse. As she sits at her little desk, blowing her nose into tissue after tissue, James awakens where he had fallen asleep on the small couch.

            Caught up in her emotions, Aimee has entirely forgotten that James was in there at all; she hadn't even seen him when she rushed in teary eyed and ready to bawl. The noises that Aimee is making startle James. He has never heard her make this sort of sound before. He sits up straight, nearly falling over in his half-awake state. He rubs his eyes, Aimee's shoulders quaking, her eyes buried in a handful of tissues. When he places his hand on her shoulder, Aimee gasps, screaming a second. Her eyes are wide when she looks down at James. Her scream had woken him up the rest of the way.

            "Holy _fuck_ , James," she breathes, eying the time on her phone just before the screen goes to sleep. It has been hours, "You were in here this _whole_ time?" she asks, her voice much calmer than she appears. James looks at her with a bit of confusion.

            "What happened? Why are you crying?" he asks desperately. To his surprise, Aimee just starts laughing after a pause, during which time she'd stared at him. He doesn't know whether to join her laughing or to continue to be concerned that she was bawling a second ago.

            "I'm sorry, James—I'm sorry. You scared the absolute _fuck_ out of me. Don't worry," she says, cupping his cheek and wiping her nose before kissing his half-open mouth, "I'm okay. I was just getting very into a couple of scenes with some editing, and they made me very emotional."

            "…Are you sure?" James asks. He turns her seat around with strength so that she's facing him, gripping her shoulders. Aimee realizes then how much she had freaked him out.

            "I'm sorry," she says, grabbing a few more fresh tissues and wiping her eyes. James doesn't stop looking frightened and worried. She feels badly for having interrupted his sleep so unceremoniously. The poor man looked like a zombie when he showed up earlier. James's lips make contact with the back of her hand, and just stay there. Once Aimee is finished wiping her eyes, she gazes down on him. She had this feeling that James was still upset about something else. He seemed like he didn't want to talk about Elliot when she asked him earlier.

            "Don't scare me like that," he says gently, calmly, finally looking up at Aimee again. The concern hasn't faded from his expression, "I thought something _really_ bad had happened," he admits, rubbing her hands.

            "Awww…James, I'm fine. You are _too_ sweet," Aimee says. His expression remains the same, "I can't believe you slept here all this time. You should have gone home. Read Elliot a bedtime s—"

            "Brett moved in with him and Lynn and I felt out of place there," James admits. She can tell that he's finally saying what's on his mind.

            "I just want to go home and sleep with you," he says, still sounding tired. He rubs her fingers, looking away and staring into space. His rubbing at her nails becomes a bit too hard for comfort. She allows this to continue for a few seconds; he doesn't even seem to realize what he's doing.

            "James," she says, gently pulling her hand away.

            "You're not done here, are you?" he asks, wrapping his arms around her legs and resting his chin atop her knees. He just looks so beautiful gazing up at her with those oceany eyes.

            "I—I am," she says, sniffling once. James stands and takes her wrist, causing Aimee to stand up, too. He turns towards the couch, releasing her a moment, pulling his coat on. Aimee watches him unsurely for a moment before doing the same. She grabs her bag and James resumes his grip on her wrist, leading her out into the cold. His silence in the cab bothers her. He sits close, though, holding her hand. A couple of times, he rubs at her fingers again, staring out the window and doing it roughly enough that Aimee pulls her hand away a few times. Observing him, she thinks to tell James what he's doing, but part of her hopes he'll just say something. He clearly doesn't realize what he's doing.

             She thinks about what he said about Lynn's boyfriend moving in with her and his five-year-old, whose suffering from a broken arm. When they reach her hotel room, the first thing that James does is help her out of her coat, reach around Aimee to unzip her skirt, all the while kissing her neck and leading her back towards the bed.

            They fall there and Aimee sighs, pushing up on James's chest. She had exhausted herself watching the scene that made her so emotional, over and over again. James groans.

            "Please don't tell me you're too tired," he breathes, looking rather disappointed as he gazes down at her. Aimee sighs.

            "I am. I'm sorry. You deserve more attention than that. I really need to sleep," she admits, smiling somewhat. She moves to kiss James and he gets up abruptly, knowing that if she keeps kissing him and it goes nowhere, he would have felt like a balloon filling with too much air but never finally bursting. He picks his jacket up off the bed and throws it on the couch before reaching for the keycard on the nightstand.

            "I'll get my toothbrush from my room," he says, walking out the door. Aimee sits there confused a minute. She thinks that he must be upset about Elliot, but he had promised her when they started dating that he wouldn't talk about his son or his ex-wife. He hadn't wanted to make Aimee uncomfortable. Part of Aimee wonders why James should be so upset that Lynn's new beau moved in with her. She wonders whether James is upset because he doesn't like the idea of a different man living with his son…or maybe he still has feelings for Lynn. The latter is what Aimee starts to focus on, and it starts to upset her.

            He had gotten up so abruptly moments prior, practically dodging her kiss. It was like when he was upset before that she was falling asleep when he told her he loved her for the first time. Showering, Aimee starts worrying that James is falling out of love with her. Maybe the incident with Elliot brought him closer to Lynn again. No matter what Aimee feels for James, no matter how well she might get along with his boy, Lynn will always be the mother of James's child. Aimee had not meant to cry out loud, but only when James is starting to pull the shower curtain open and ask her to let him in does she react. She pulls the curtain closed, holding it against James's tug.

            "I'm almost done," she promises.

            "Can I come in?" James asks from the other side. Eventually, he tugs the curtain out of Aimee's grip and bits of hot water trickle out onto the rug at his bare feet. He looks at her face, where she's wiping her eyes under the water, grins without teeth, and steps in to join her.

            "Maybe my acting was _too_ good. Don't watch my scenes anymore," he says, kissing the side of Aimee's head. Her face had fallen into his heated chest. A lump in her throat stops Aimee from talking.

            "What _really_ happened?" James asks after a moment, peeling her off him.

            "Ames?" James cups her cheeks. She pulls his hands away.

            "I'm tired," she states, stepping out of the shower and closing the curtain, leaving James alone in there, and probably a bit confused. She hears him sigh as she wraps a towel around herself. She stoops to pick up his jeans and clothes from the floor and drape them on the counter. She brushes her teeth while James showers. In the fogged up mirror, she can tell that he's pulling the curtain back for a few seconds to look at her.

            In the adjoining room, Aimee changes into some PJs. A phone buzzing on the coffee table catches her attention. She saunters over to James's phone to see that Lynn is calling. Her ID photo is almost as beautiful as Aimee remembers her being the first time they met. She wants to answer it, say something, but she just watches the phone ring. After several moments, the phone buzzes to alert the new voicemail waiting. Aimee stares at the bathroom door, steam wafting out into the room. She picks the phone up with trembling hands and swipes the screen. To Aimee's surprise, there's no pass code.

            Thinking that she's being really despicable, she presses the text message icon. Most of what's there is from herself, some unknown men who she assumes are James's friends, James's agent, and Lynn. When Aimee presses the latter thread of messages, she finds that there hasn't been much communication. All that's there is stuff about Elliot, like times where James can come pick him up. Aimee begins feeling stupid as she reads further back.

            "Find what you were looking for?" James's voice shocks Aimee out of her skin. She hadn't heard him come out of the bathroom. He looks on at her with crossed arms and an un-amused expression on his face. Aimee doesn't say anything as James approaches her and takes his phone out of her hands. He doesn't snatch it or anything like that, but Aimee is immediately guilty, wishing she hadn't done what she did. He had watched her long enough to be able to tell that she was reading through stuff.

            "What's going on?" He asks, a bit of water dripping from his hair onto a formfitting gray t-shirt. He looks at the phone to find that Aimee had skimmed through a thread of texts between himself and Lynn. He sighs, shoulders sinking in disappointment.

            "She called you, and I just…" Aimee crosses her arms uncomfortably. If Aimee had simply wanted to pick up to tell Lynn that he was in the shower, there was no reason she should have come to this thread of text messages. He's upset then, realizing that Aimee would question him like this.

            "Do we need to talk?" James asks, putting the phone back on the table and looking Aimee directly in the eyes. She's silent.

            "Is this what you're upset about?" James asks in disbelief, his voice softening a bit. She had practically run away from him in the shower and not said a word. It couldn’t have just been watching a couple of heartbreaking scenes—scenes she herself wrote—that made her so sad suddenly.

            "You can't seriously think that I—"

            "Can't I? You looked _really_ unhappy when you told me that her boyfriend moved in with her," Aimee blurts, "I had to wonder why you'd be so upset about that if…" Aimee sighs, shaking her head and walking towards the large window and staring out at London. She can see James turn to her in the window's reflection.

            "About what, that some man I don't know very well is living with my son? I didn't know I had to be secretly coveting my ex-wife because I'm not happy about a stranger living with my family," James says defensively. Aimee can't stand this tone and doesn't want to hear James use it with her.

            "Aimee," he sighs, sounding apologetic, "Please look at me." She keeps her back turned. He sighs.

            "You're being ridiculous, Aimee," he says. She turns her head slightly then, staying silent. James tries to reason with himself that she's just tired and stressed out. Maybe she's actually angry about him leaving without notice the other day. He decides that he can't take being in her cold shoulder, grabbing his phone and bag, walking out of the room. Aimee listens to the sound of the door closing. He doesn't like the feeling that Aimee doesn't trust him, not when he told her he won't do to her what other bastards had done. Knowing that he's not the cheating type, it had hurt him to find her going through his phone like that. He figures that he should just leave her alone until she's done filming. Something had changed over the weeks since she began. James knew she wasn’t fond of watching him kiss the actresses he was working with. Maybe that started fucking with her head. She _did_ write his character into a love triangle, one where he cheated. Maybe she's just projecting her work onto him.

            James makes his way to his own hotel room, listening to the voicemail Lynn had left him. She says she was just calling because Elliot had wanted to say goodnight to him. He figures that the pain meds Elliot is on must be kicking in by now, and not wanting to wake him all the way back up, James decides not to return the call. Aimee collapses into bed alone, regretting her actions. She has slept more than enough nights away from James. Shivering, she wishes she'd told him to stay.


	13. Chapter 13

            Aimee only makes it halfway to lunch before she can't stand James ignoring her any further. She texts him: _I'm sorry_. Two minutes later, he's calling. She's quiet, not knowing where exactly to start. In the background, it sounds like people are talking.

            "Aimee?" James asks calmly.

            "Uhm," she breathes.

            "Listen, I can't talk right now. I'm out with Elliot." Aimee sighs.

            "Can I come by for lunch later?" James asks. She had only wanted to talk, but all the words she wanted to say aren't coming to her now.

            "Yes," she says meaningfully.

            "I'll bring something. I'll see you later."

Aimee listens to the dial tone a moment, taking a deep breath. She wants to apologize in person, relieved that James will come to see her. She feels badly about how the night had gone. It shouldn't have been that way. It was her fault. Aimee is sitting waiting in her trailer when there's a knock. She had begun to worry; her break is over in less than twenty minutes. She wouldn't have blamed James if he didn’t show up at all. It would have served her right; he hadn't done anything to seriously make her question his loyalty.

            "I'm sorry," she says, as soon as she sees him. He smiles halfheartedly without teeth. James places a bag of takeout on the table. He sighs.

            "I'm sorry I'm late. I took Elliot out for lunch first." He pulls his coat off and sits it nearby on the couch, following suit and motioning for Aimee to sit beside him.

            "James, I'm so sorry," she says, meaning it, her knee pressed against him. He sighs, cupping her knee with warm hands.

            "I just can't believe you don't trust me," he says, sounding much more disappointed than Aimee hoped he would, "I can't believe that you think that I would lie to you," he says, looking deeply into her eyes. She fights the urge to look away with shame.

            "I don't know if it's…just the way you feel about men, or this film—the script you wrote—it's like you're projecting that onto me. I left last night because I couldn't stomach for you to look at me like you don't trust me," he explains, "If I didn't want you, I wouldn't be with you."

            "I know—"

            "Do you, Aimee?" James asks, sounding a little defensive then, "Do you _really_ know?"

She looks apologetic now. He sighs.

            "I saw what you were doing and it felt like a slap in the face. How can we make this work if you don't trust me?"

            "I _do_ , James," she says hastily, grabbing his arm. He shakes his head.

            "I don't think you do."

            "I'm just used to relationships being crappy for me. I just felt…worried after you said Lynn's boyfriend moved in with her and you looked upset about it. It didn't really occur to me then that you were just worried for Elliot. I'm _sorry_. I really am. Please don't…" Aimee's eyes have welled up so much that now the tears can't be held back any longer. James sighs, looking like he's about to regret something.

            "I'm just saying that maybe we should take time to ourselves while you're still working on this film."

            "James, no," Aimee says, begging.

            "You showed me that you don't trust me, Aimee—"

            " _Please_ —!"

He grips her shoulders, "Just while you're working. You're not the same when you're stressed. And I feel like I need to be there for Elliot right now. Doing that means I can't focus on you as much as I want to."

            "I don't want to do this," Aimee says, her voice uneasy as she wipes her eyes.

            "I won't look through your phone again—it was _fucking_ stupid. I realized that as soon as I did it," she says desperately.

            "Aimee, what you did was a mistake, and I get that, but it still hurt me," James admits, looking utterly disappointed, "And I told you I wouldn't hurt you. The matter is, there was a moment great enough that you believed I would, and you had to go into my phone and try to validate that."

She wipes her eyes, "Maybe…I don't know," she whispers.

            "Maybe I shouldn't even have mentioned Lynn's boyfriend moving in with her. Maybe I unintentionally made you think something you shouldn't have thought. I'm being honest with you, I only said that because of my son. And he's going in for rehabilitation soon. I just don't want to drag you somewhere you're not ready to go with me."

            "Of course I'm ready—"

            "No, you're not." There's a silence, but Aimee realizes that James isn't wrong.

            "I don't want a break right now, James. Maybe I _am_ stressed out, but I want to be able to see you every day."

            "We _barely_ see each other right now while you're filming." He's right about this, at the very least. And when they do see each other, she's exhausted. Maybe that wasn't very fun for James. She hadn't thought about that.

            "Is Elliot going to be okay?" she asks, looking away from him.

            "Yes."

He wishes she would look at him now. He kisses her cheek.

            "This is still hard for me, not getting to be with Elliot every moment I'm awake. No one wants their kid to go through this sort of pain."

            "I can't imagine the pain you're in, too," she says, closing her eyes. James kisses her closed mouth lingeringly.

            "I just want you to focus on this for now," James says quietly, "Okay?"

She nods, and when he leaves, she's still sitting there. She doesn't even bother to eat what he brought her, allowing herself to go through the rest of the day hungry. She replays the previous night in her head repeatedly. If she hadn't done that, would James have decided that they needed to "take time"? Maybe because of Elliot, he still would have done it. She should have known better. If James was trying to get out of their relationship, he would have. He had done it before, marriage and everything that leads up to it. He was tired of games and wasn't playing them anymore. She should have known better.

            She devours the cold noodles James had brought her on her ride to the hotel. Housekeeping had folded the clothes James left in Aimee's bathroom. She pauses at the sink, clutching his shirt from the previous day and smelling it. The article doesn't stink, it just smells like James. She takes a deep breath, wishing instead that he was there to wrap his arms around her.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And credits.

            Aside from texting good morning and goodnight, there isn't much communication between Aimee and James since he admitted that her distrust had hurt him. She is left feeling genuinely bad about it. What he'd said about projecting her script onto him had begun to make so much sense, and she couldn't believe herself for not being more aware. She figures that he was right to tell her they should take a break until she's done working on the film. It seems that something is constantly keeping them apart. But in a few week's time, Aimee is used to being alone again.

            One morning, she wakes up to a video message of Elliot waving at her in the shoes James bought him the one time the three of them went out together. Elliot is waving with his casted arm, and she hears James laugh briefly in the background.

            "Miss you, Aimee," Elliot says, blowing a kiss. The video ends, leaving Aimee wanting to replay it. She doesn't really know what to say in response to James. She had just adjusted to the idea of not seeing him every day. He had told her countless times that Elliot mentions her when he sees him. She works through the day missing Elliot, too. When it's over, she decides she will get something nice for him, as his cast is coming off soon, according to James. James had been checking in with her daily for the most part.

            At a toy shop in the city, Aimee pauses to text James and ask him what kinds of things Elliot fancies. Seeing children bustling about, begging their parents for this and that, Aimee finds herself relieved that she's not actually a parent. At least Elliot is well-mannered. Aimee thought it was rare to come by children like that. She's reaching for a plush elephant with a smile on her face when her phone buzzes in her back pocket, causing her to drop the stuffed animal. Aimee squats to pick it up, at the same time, picking her phone from her back pocket. She had heard the sound of footsteps rushing down the aisle, and when she tries to stand up, something covers her eyes. With a start, Aimee gasps.

            "Guess who, Aimee," says a familiar voice lowly into her ear.

            "Elliot?" she asks, gently feeling his cast. He laughs.

            "How did you know?"

His other hand is still covering her right eye, and she laughs.

            "Elliot?" A woman's voice calls. She sighs, and the sound of more approaching steps meet Aimee's ears.

            "Don't run off like that," Lynn chastises, "And what are you doing to this poor woman?"

            "Aimee?" James's voice meets Aimee's ears, and Elliot is tugged away from her eyes. She looks up to see James squatting to meet her at the floor, picking up the plush elephant. Elliot is pulling on Lynn's arms, explaining that he wanted to surprise Aimee when he saw her.

            "What are you…?" James trails off, nodding knowingly, " _Oh_ ," he says, fearing the surprise for Elliot will be ruined. James grins, helping her up. Lynn has picked Elliot up now, telling him to behave. Aimee finds herself at a loss for words.

            "You met Aimee the other month, at my apartment," James explains, his hand finding its way to the small of Aimee's back. Lynn places a squirming Elliot down again, looking a bit confused a moment.

            "Oh! That's right," she says, opening her purse where Elliot begins to tug on it. He pulls out an orange Sharpie and walks right up to Aimee. Lynn closes the gap between them to shake her hand. Aimee smiles, still feeling awkward about their first encounter when she was standing naked in James's bathrobe in his kitchen.

            "It's been a while. Good to see you again," Lynn says pleasantly.

            "Likewise."

            "Will you sign my cast?" Elliot asks. He has the sweetest voice that Aimee melts. He looks more like James than she remembers. Elliot raises his arm to Aimee and hands her the Sharpie.

            "It's my favorite color," he says.

            "Of _course_ , Elliot. I'd be honored to sign your cast."

Aimee searches for an empty spot; he had already had it signed by friends.

            "Well, how are you, Aimee? I heard you're doing a movie," Lynn continues, looking intently at Elliot, who is leaning against Aimee with one hand while she signs his cast.

            "James has been reluctant to tell me much about it," Lynn admits. She smiles, to Aimee's surprise. Elliot acts like he knows Aimee very well. It becomes clear to Lynn that he's fond of her.

            "Yeah, we're winding down to the final touches," Aimee explains nonchalantly.

            "Well, you know you're going to be happy with the results because you got to work with him," Lynn explains, gesturing to James. He grins, dipping his head in Aimee's direction, kissing her cheek briefly.

            "I think all the hard work came from Aimee," he says, clutching her hip, "But I appreciate the compliment. I'll take it," James says.

            "What do you say, Elliot?" Lynn asks, cocking a brow as he goes to return the Sharpie to her. He bites his fingers shyly.

            "Thank you, Aimee."

            "You're welcome, Elliot."

            "I'm gonna keep it when they take it off me," he explains.

            "Really?" Aimee asks with interest. Elliot nods, shyly hiding his face a moment.

            "I was going to ask what you were doing here, but—"

Elliot gasps, interrupting Lynn, "Mummy— _that's_ the one I want!" he says, pulling her along. James watches them disappear down the aisle. He turns to Aimee and presses the plush Elephant against her stomach.

            "There goes the surprise," she laughs. James looks at her like he's trying not to laugh.

            "I didn't get a chance to read your text," Aimee confesses.

            "He's got the attention span of about a foot. He won't remember what you were getting him if you decide on Dumbo here," James promises. Aimee laughs.

            "I just thought it would be nice to get him something for when—"

James leans in and kisses her. She nearly drops her phone in the moment. She breaks the kiss herself. What were the chances of running into each other like this at this time and place? James sighs, his eyes still closed for several seconds as Aimee observes him.

            "I'm sorry," he breathes. He had nothing to apologize for.

            "I missed you," he says genuinely. Seeing her had caught him off guard, and it just felt so natural for him to do this as a greeting. She nods, looking down at the stuffed elephant between hers and James's hands. He presses his forehead to hers.

            "I wish I hadn't—"

            "I should go pay for this. I have an early start tomorrow," Aimee admits, pulling back more. She can't deal with him being this close in front of Lynn, though she's totally distracted by Elliot several feet away around the corner. James nods.

            "Just tell me when," she starts, taking the elephant and maneuvering back a few inches, "Elliot gets his cast off so I can give this to him," she finishes.

            "Have a good night," he says, wanting to run after her. She gazes back at him, to James's relief. It wasn't that strange to see James with Lynn and Elliot. From their interaction, she could see they were there for their son, and nothing more. Again, Aimee punishes herself mentally for thinking that James wasn’t over his ex. He hadn't been afraid to touch Aimee in front of her. Aimee buys a cute little fancy gift bag for the elephant at the gift shop in her hotel and prepares herself for bed with James on her mind.

 

            The weekend could not have come soon enough. The following week is the last one she will spend directing. It surprises Aimee when James calls her straight after she texts him this information, asking to see her. She had thought he meant to give her space until the movie was done. But he'd said he couldn’t stop thinking about her the entire time, even more so when they had run into each other at the toy shop a few evenings prior. She suggests they meet at a café in the city around one, and James sounds hopeful upon hanging up.

            Twelve-thirty rolls around, and Aimee is finalizing what to wear, deciding on a nice blood red blouse and jeans. There's knocking at her door. Wondering whether it's housekeeping, she starts there and unlocks the lock. James breezes in, right into her, not even a hello. He just finds the nearest wall and presses her to it, catching her legs up so she wraps them around his waist.

            "I forgive you," he says, burying his face in her neck.

            "Well…I don't forgive myself," she says, once she's over the shock of him plowing through the door like that.

            "You were right, James. What I did showed you I didn't trust you. I'm sorry."

            "And I forgive you," he says, meeting her eyes.

            "But I don't forgive myself," she repeats, cupping his cheek. He allows her off the wall and pulls her towards the bed where he sits. She sits beside him, teary-eyed.

            "I just feel so stupid. I shouldn't have—"

            "Hey, love," James interrupts, "I said I forgive you, and I meant it." He just holds her hand as she sits there cross-legged, calming down. He kisses her cheek.

            "You said you wanted to wait until I'm done filming," Aimee says quietly, "And I thought about what you said—about projecting my script on you. You were right, James. I'm sorry for being so crazy." Aimee wipes her nose. To her surprise, James laughs genuinely.

            "You're an artist, Aimee. The best kind of crazy there is."

She laughs a little at this.

            "And I still love you," he says, pushing a hand through her hair. She meets his gaze.

            "Do you mean that?"

James nods. He reaches on the nightstand for a box of tissues. Aimee's still pretty when she cries. James can't help kissing her forehead ad nauseam, until she lifts her face and his lips start meeting her lips instead. What was supposed to be lunch turns into hours of lovemaking in bed, a bead of sweat dripping from James's temple and landing on Aimee's chest as he sighs between her thighs. Her hands pawing all over his back James severely missed. He had imagined her quaking in orgasm many nights, unable to sleep. She was never quite out of his system.

            "Do you still want to go out to eat?" James asks, rolling off onto his side and wrapping an arm around Aimee's naked waist.

            "Yes."

He sighs.

            "I'm sorry, hon. My legs are shot. Room service."

She laughs.

 

            The Friday of her last day shooting, Elliot is getting his cast off. When Aimee drops by the hospital to surprise Elliot with the stuffed elephant, Lynn actually hugs her. She's introduced to Lynn's boyfriend, too, and the situation is no longer awkward. Lynn could see that Elliot was fond of Aimee and that Aimee was good to him and James. Any thoughts Aimee harbored that Lynn disliked her in the beginning fade as they get lost in their own conversation about Aimee's movie.

            Aimee starts spending so much time at James's that she practically lives there. But whenever he has Elliot, the place feels too stuffy for them. Aimee had suggested that he move into her house. It was big enough that Elliot could have his own room and Aimee and James their own, with space to spare. James agreed. Aimee hadn't been sure for the longest time that she would want to have kids, but she grew open to the idea. Sometimes James would bring it up, especially after watching her spend more time with Elliot. It was something for her to think about, that's all, James had said.

            "James and Aimee…Jaimee," James had grinned, clutching Aimee's hips one Saturday when they took Elliot to the park.

            "What do you think, Ames?" he had asked. Aimee had just blushed like a tomato. She couldn't believe James loved her to that extent. He hadn't tried to pressure the idea on Aimee, but at times, Elliot would talk about having a little brother or sister and how great he would be as a big brother.

            "It sounds perfect," she'd said, kissing James under the shade of an oak tree.

 

            The night of the premiere, nerves are filling Aimee's stomach. Several times, she swears she's going to vomit out of sheer anxiety, but she's nonetheless excited out of her mind. James seems to be the only thing keeping her grounded, gripping her hand as cameras flash to the point where she's sure she'll go blind. He had been so eager for this moment, almost more than Aimee herself. He seems to be excited to show her off as his girlfriend as well. Aimee refuses to make much comment about that in any interviews, wanting her personal life to stay as personal as possible. Danielle, Renee, and Aubrey, Aimee's closest girlfriends, attend the premiere by her side in support. While James's attention is caught by an interviewer, she pulls them aside to thank them for never giving up trying to get her to meet him. She can't imagine how life would be now if she hadn't.

            Just when she's sure that the night can't get any better, James tells her he's booked a reservation for dinner, just the two of them. On the ride there, James has Aimee in his lap in the backseat of a limo. He hadn't been able to keep his hands off her the entire night. Aimee is surprised when James helps her out of the car to walk up to the same restaurant he had taken her to on their first date. The spring's night air is refreshing against Aimee's cheek. It has been a year since they've been here.

            "If you're not in the mood for Coq au vin, we can go somewhere—"

            "It's perfect, James," she states, kissing his cheek. He holds the door open for her and they're seated at a candle-lit table. They discuss the details of the premiere, and Aimee still can't believe her directed film is now on screen. For a moment, she thinks that James had dropped something at her feet and leant down to pick it up, but as she pushes her chair back to make room for him, he pulls something out of his pocket, the classic little velvet box. The diamond is almost as lively as his eyes.

            "James," she says, covering her mouth in disbelief.

            "Now—before you say anything, just…wait," he says, grinning, laughing nervously.

            "I know we've only been together for a year," he starts. People around them are turning in their seats to smile and watch with almost as much nervousness as James, "And in that short time together, we've learned so much about each other, I've starred in your first film that you directed, my son has fallen almost as madly for you as I have, and you reminded me what love is." A number of _awws_ from the tables next door meet Aimee's ears.

            "I can't live contently another day without you doing me the honor of being my wife."

James plucks the ring from the box. It's modest, but still bigger than any ring Aimee has ever seen. James holds her left hand carefully, locking in on her gaze.

            "Why are you crying, hon?" he asks quietly, just mouthing the words. He dabs at a tear with his thumb. Aimee starts nodding immediately.

            "Will you marry me?" he asks, regardless. The round of applause scares her; she had been sucked into her own little bubble with James. She watches him slide the ring on. James maneuvers between her feet, holding her from the floor. She kisses him, feeling his teeth against her lips, as he's unable to stop smiling. She had never been more sure of a man before.

            "I love you, Aimee."


End file.
